My Meltingpot
by Lucy Kent
Summary: A collection of one-shot stories from all across the Fandom. I make no garuntees about anything, except any warnings will be on the top of each chapter
1. Chapter 1

_This short story has been deleted by me (Lucy)._

_Please look to the next chapter._

_Thank you._


	2. The Cloak of Lockhart

It flew towards her as though it was meant only for her. Of course, Katie and Angelina disagreed. It was a quick fight, but somehow Angelina snagged it. On the outside she was smiling, but inside she burned. that had been her cloak! Alicia turned her eyes back to Professor Lockhart. Alicia had been one of the first Gilderoy Lockhart fans. She was even fan number 3 in his card holders group. The only two higher than her was was some man that no one ever saw named Roy Heart, and some girl that lived in France. Katie and Angelina didn't know about her number. She had waited and used a different name to get a different number. So for everyone else, her card number was 769. Katie was 763 and Angelina was 891. So it just wasn't fair that Angelina got the cloak!

That night Alicia pulled out her new journal. Inside she wrote all her daily observations on Lockhart. She would mail the fan club with the edited version under the name LockedMyHart. She had quite the following, or so the newspaper crew told her. The version she sent ranted about how an unworthy girl had managed to gain something personal from their star. Angelina may have not been named, but every girl in the school threw her dirty looks after that. Alicia felt momentary joy, but it quickly hollowed and she felt worse then ever.

* * *

Alicia felt torn. On one hand, how could she possibly even imagine hurting this cloak. On the other hand Angelina didn't deserve it. Closing her eyes she released the spell. There was a splat, and Alicia peeked out to see the cloak slowly sinking into a vat of tomato sauce. She spelled it to be invisible for an hour and left the bedroom. She was sitting in the common room when she heard Angelina find the cloak. She rushed to her friends side.

* * *

Alicia buried her face in her hands on the train ride home. How could she have been so stupid? She had already cancelled both of her fan club cards. Even her number 3. She had written to the fan club with the details of Gilderoy Lockhart's disgrace. But now she couldn't believe that she had been so obsessed with him that she had turned against her best friend. Angelina had found out a week before the disgrace, but Katie had sided her her and now Alicia was alone on the train. A tear slipped out of her eye as she looked at the passing countryside.

* * *

Alicia lifted her chin as she entered the platform. She had not received a single letter from Angelina or Katie. Her chin wobbled a little but she ignored it as she climbed onto the train and opened whatever book her mother had handed her moments ago. She didn't look up when the carriage door opened. It didn't matter who it was. She kept reading.

When Alicia glanced up a few minutes later, the book hit her lap as she found Angelina and Katie sitting there. They were both reading something of their own, but they looked up at the same time. Angelina opened her mouth but before she could say a word Alicia was crying. "I'm so so so sorry. I don't know why I did that. Please forgive me." Alicia was surrounded by the other two girls in a hug and the others began to cry as well. Angelina forgave her, and so did Katie.

And so when they arrived at Hogwarts for their fifth year, they walked arm and arm through the main doors. Gilderoy Lockhart was never mentioned again.

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**Thanks for reading. If you have time to leave a review, please do.**

**For the LIFE game.**

**Prompts: Alicia Spinnet, Sauce, Burn**


	3. Hogwarts

**Hogwarts...**

* * *

Hogwarts was memories. Over the years memories had poured through the gaps in her stones like a gas. Life-changing memories, and even the ones forgotten in moments. But she could remember them all. She also held death. The pain and sorrow of many who had died within in her. But it wasn't until a full battle raged within her and their magic started to consume her that she began to take an interest. Memories and death. The castle ached from such an influx of both, but she could feel something new. When those who came to repair her surrounded themselves with a cloud of memory, she would choose to absorb it a little to they could continue to work. The workers would pour even more memories and even more magic into her, and she saw things she would never have guessed. Once she was fully repaired, her halls were filled once more. There were many who wore a cloak of memories. She never took it all away, but when it seemed to wrap itself up around the person and try to suffocate them, she would pull out its strength. Soon there were far fewer in number with that cloak, and she found herself with a rather new sensation. She felt unsatisfied. So when she found a flood of memories coming from three boys in the dungeon, she moved instinctively. Two of the boys watched as the walls around their third boy moved to shelter him. Using the memories of others long since gone, she pushed some of the magic she had gained into the boy, healing him. She slowly began to work with this new skill she gained, and every so often would interfere.

Hogwarts existed a while before another battle began. Again she was damaged, but she ignored this in an effort to stop the death. She didn't like death. No one died, but they kept fighting and she kept having to safe them, even from the green light that screamed death. The battle continued, and she began to realize that if no one died they might just fight forever. Indecision waged within her. Finally she reached a decision. Gathering the memories she had received, she found the ones that caused the most pain, using her magic she gave those memories to every person. Everything stopped, and Hogwarts found herself slipped away again. With no more memories, death, or even magic to sustain her she found that she could only exist long enough to watch the battle end and those fighting it turn away from each other.

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**I'm not quite sure what this ended up as. I started with a premise, lost it, and found this story instead. Oh well. Here you go.**


	4. Take Care

**Written for the Dummy Round of the Quidditch League**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Position: Seeker**

**Words: 1138**

* * *

Harry found himself sitting in the potion's lab staring down at the brown blob that was supposed to be a purple water. Groaning, Harry turned his eyes back to the book and retraced his steps. He had added 9 Newt Eyes, stirred correctly, added rosemary and asphodel... but... Harry's eyes again turned to the cauldron and he glared murderously down at it. He had done everything just like the book said, why hadn't it done its job properly and been the correct color! He vanished the contents, turned off the flame, and let his head fall onto the book with an echoing thump. If it wasn't necessary for him to have a NEWT in Potions to be an auror, he would never have considered being here. Harry lifted his head slightly and dropped it again. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and it was times like this that he wondered why he had come back for a last year at Hogwarts.

In the silence that surrounded Harry like a comforting blanket, Harry could hear a pair of feet heading toward the classroom. Harry figured it was probably Hermione coming to make sure he hadn't killed himself yet and remained still. The door opened but the feet stopped. Harry tilted his head to the side and opened his eyes to find Draco Malfoy standing in the doorway. Seven years of animosity almost had him reaching for his wand, but then he saw the sheen of unwept tears. So Harry turned his head again and stared down at the words that blurred together. Malfoy hesitated for a moment but then he went over to the storage area and began to collect some things. Harry couldn't help but think that the clinking noises were somewhat melodic.

What surprised Harry, was when Malfoy put his supplies and book onto the same table Harry was at. Harry looked up and saw the grey of Malfoy's eyes swirl in indecision. Harry sat up and moved his book and the remnants of his own supplies out of the way. He had just enough for another attempt. The two of them worked in silence, but when Harry went to put the rosemary in, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning his head he found Malfoy watching him. Malfoy nodded slightly before he turned back to his own cauldron. Harry realized that Malfoy was making the same potion he was. But where Harry had been about to drop the rosemary in, Malfoy gently sprinkled it on top. When he was finished he turned back to Harry. Harry cautiously mirrored the movements he had seen from Malfoy. Once done he looked over, but the Slytherin had turned his attention back to the book. Harry cautiously sprinkled the asphodel as well.

Ten minutes later, Harry was looking down at a purple water. A little brown, but mostly purple. Harry turned to Malfoy and saw that his companion was already starting on the second part. Harry quickly caught up, and would look over every now and then to make sure he was doing everything the same way Malfoy was. They worked in near silence, with Malfoy occasionally grabbing Harry's attention to demonstrate one thing or another. An hour later, two cauldrons of Skele-Gro were bottled and the cauldrons cleaned. They put the remaining supplies away, put their books in their bags and walked out of the classroom. They walked together until they reached a split where Harry would go left and Malfoy would go right. They both paused and Harry tried to think of something to say. But in the end he gently touched the blonde's shoulder and they separated.

As he lay in his dorm that night, Harry wondered over the whole experience. Neither of them had said a word, and yet they had not raised a wand either. Malfoy had helped him with his potion. And Harry being the dolt that he was couldn't have even said "thank you." With a groan Harry closed his eyes and fell asleep.

* * *

The next morning, Harry was facing the Slytherin table and watching Malfoy interact with the few Slytherins who had gathered the courage to come back. The other three tables mostly ignored the ones dressed in green and silver, but there was an occasional glare sent their way. Malfoy merely nibbled at his food. Having watched him the whole of sixth year, Harry knew that it was not enough food. Malfoy suddenly stopped eating and stared dumbly at his plate. Before he knew what he was doing, Harry wordlessly cast the levitation charm on a green apple out of Malfoy's reach and dropped it into the man's hand. Malfoy startled and his eyes shot up. Again Harry found himself looking at eyes that were filled with unshed tears. Malfoy nodded his head, and bit into the apple.

* * *

Harry continued to struggle with NEWT potions but occasionally Malfoy would join him. Harry would watch Malfoy eat and would give the man more food if Malfoy didn't eat a satisfactory amount. No matter what it was, Malfoy would always eat what Harry gave him. If anyone at the school noticed the odd companionship of the two they never said anything. In fact, neither did Harry or Malfoy. The rest of their year went by and not once did either of them say a word to the other. Until the day of graduation. The grounds were full of parents and students mingling together, shaking each other's hands, bidding farewell. Harry shook the hands of many parents he didn't know, but it wasn't that unusual. But Harry found himself facing Malfoy at one point. He was surprised the Slytherin had come. Even those standing around the man now simply pretended he wasn't there. But Harry had seen him. Without any hesitation he lifted his hand. Malfoy stared at it a bit before his eyes shot to Harry. Harry suddenly remembered being eleven and on a train. Harry smiled softly before reaching his hand even closer. Hesitantly, Malfoy lifted his hand and they shook. Harry felt the urge to break the silence that was between them so he opened his mouth, but no words came out. Harry closed his mouth and eyes and thought. When he opened them again, Harry saw those tears again, just sitting behind the surface. So he said the only thing he could. "Take care Malfoy."

A tear slipped past Malfoy's eyes and the man dropped Harry's hand and wiped it away. He lifted his chin and replied. "Goodbye Potter." Malfoy turned and left. Harry watched the proud back of Draco Malfoy until too many bodies stood between them. Harry's attention then turned to Ginny who had just arrived. She smiled at him brightly before tugging him over to the large and boisterous group he would soon call his family.


	5. The Scars of Remus

**I didn't mean to write another sad one... Honest.**

* * *

Lyall and Hope Lupin were not the most aware parents. Lyall and Hope were still infatuated with each other 6 years after their marriage, but had no time to care for the third family member. Their son was raised the two house elves that Hope's family had given them as a wedding present. In fact, those three were often in the kitchen. On the night that changed everything, Remus was sitting in the corner with a bunch of pots that he was banging on gleefully. Tilly was preparing dinner and Dokky was cleaning the cupboards. The Lupins were out, soon to be home. Remus was making so much noise that none of them noticed a breach in the wards, or the sound of the door being blasted off its hinges.

They would tell friends and neighbors that it was an unfortunate accident. A drunken wizard who thought that he was at his own house. They would reassure everyone that they were ok, they were away from the house. Unfortunately they had lost their two house elves to the man. Most of the world never realized that the Lupins had a child, and from that day on they kept it that way. To the family and friends who knew of their son they would cry and blame themselves. For 23 days they claimed they would be better parents. They claimed that they would be there for their son again, that they would not shame him for his scars.

But they, who had never truly loved their son, had been unprepared for the unfortunate side-effect of the attack. For Remus' 5th birthday they gave him only a bottle of wolfsbane and told him to go to the basement. Remus wanted to cry and complain, but even at his young age he could see his parents jump away from him if he made loud noises. So silently he went and crawled into the cage they had built for him. As he cried himself to sleep, he wondered if it was impossible to love someone like him.

* * *

**Written for the Life Game**

**Written for The Childish Challenge**


	6. Fred's Box

**Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction League**

**Position: Seeker**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Word Count: 1013**

* * *

Fred nibbled on his bottom lip while he concentrated. He had to drop this in just the right... an explosion went off and Fred sighed. He glared at the box before hiding it away. Seconds later George came crashing through the door with a worried expression. Fred grinned. "It's ok. Just trying something new." George sighed in relief. Fred couldn't blame him. Things were very tense at the moment. Fred looked at the hole that had been his twin's ear. He had almost lost his brother. Fred closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He felt arms wrap around him and Fred leaned into the familiar body that was his brother.

* * *

Fred rubbed his hands together before lifting the drop of potion above the box. This was already attempt... he had lost count. The drop wobbled as Fred lost his concentration and he held his breath in anticipation. Luckily it didn't fall off. Slowly he lowered it onto the box. The box absorbed the potion and Fred held his breath. One second, two seconds... Fred let out the breath right before the box exploded. He shouted out a string of curses before once again hiding the box.

As always George was there seconds later. But after seeing that Fred was unharmed George left again. Fred sighed and sat down. Things had gotten a bit tense between them. It was all this tension in the air. Fred and his twin weren't meant to live in a world that didn't appreciate their jokes! Fred took a deep breath and pulled the box back out. That was why he had to finish this on time.

* * *

Fred and George met up with their family for Christmas. Ron was back, but something was off and he wouldn't tell anyone about it. The whole atmosphere was not what Christmas was, so Fred winked and George and his twin understood. Three pranks later and the rest of their family had momentarily forgotten what was going on in the world. But that night Fred couldn't resist climbing into his brother's bed. The two of them lay together and stared up at the ceiling. They didn't say anything, but Fred knew that next year... Fred shook the thoughts out of his head and forced himself to fall asleep.

* * *

Success! It had taken him over a year, but his happy box was finished! He marveled at the seemingly innocent jack-in-the-box. Fred quickly tiptoed to his door. He peaked out and saw that George was handling one of their many customers. He smiled at the sight. George did a really good job at running a store. Fred closed the door and smiled at the box.

Fred cracked his knuckles and wound the box. Music flowed around him and he smiled at the peace it brought with it. This was the first part of the box. It eased all your tension with the music. But the moment when the Jack is supposed to pop out, Fred was instead pulled into the box. Inside he found the world of children's stories. Everything was bright and fluffy. The animals had large smiles, and that music floated all around him. He walked around and made sure all the little pranks were right where he had put them. No problems there. Finally he pulled a leaf off of a tree and ate it. Seconds later he was on the ground laughing, the Laughter Leaf fully effective.

Fred looked up and called out. "Wheezes!" Before he was pulled back out of the box. Fred found himself standing exactly where he had been. Again he snuck over the door and stole a glance at his brother. This time his brother was laughing with a pretty young woman over near the love potions.

Fred lost track of time for a moment as he stood there. A small smile had crept onto his face. It would be great if things could always stay this way. The smile slipped from him. He closed the door and leaned against it. He didn't know how much longer they both had. The battle was almost here. Everyone could feel it. Fred pushed off of the door and walked over to the box. He quickly wrapped it in Christmas paper. Sitting down he pulled a piece of parchment over and began to write.

* * *

Christmas felt empty. The missing red head seemed to hover in the air around them. But it was most apparent on George Weasley. He had gotten his smile back not too long ago, but this holiday seemed to have stolen it again. The rest of his family did what they could to cheer him up, but nothing worked.

They were all surprised when a white owl swept through the window with a package. It landed on George's lap and he stared at it dumbly. That is until he saw the note on top. The note with a very recognizable handwriting. George never let anyone read that letter, so no one could have guessed what it said. But they all knew who it was from. For the first time since his brother's funeral, George broke down into tears in front of his family.

They all surrounded him and hugged him. But the only comfort he received that day was when he finally began to turn the handle on the box. His tears and frown disappeared as the music surrounded him and when he was pulled into the box he wanted to cry. But Fred had made that impossible. With laughter that sounded almost like sobs George explored the world Fred had created for him.

When he finally allowed himself to leave, the box dissolved, as the letter had promised it would. What was left was a small glass fox. George held the animal close to himself remembering long nights discussing what they would be if they were animagus. He clutched the letter and the animal close as he fell asleep. And if there had been anyone around to see, they would have noticed the signature of Fred Weasley, and the words "With Laughter" above it.

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**Prompts:**

**FredMischiefmanagedGeorge: Favorite Pairing/Character**

**Fred**


	7. The Dungeon Bat and the Library Vulture

**Written for the Quidditch Fanfiction League**

**Position: Seeker**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Word Count: 1,107**

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The school was very quiet and very still. It was still summer so there were no students to go running through the halls. The most noise could be found in the Library where hundreds of books flapped their way around. In the midst of this flock sat Madam Irma Pince. She was sitting in an undignified manner surrounded by hundreds of books piled haphazardly around her. This alone would be enough to shock her students, but the sight of her peaceful smile would have terrified them. Madam Pince only smiled for one thing, or so they thought. At the moment she was smiling at the new books she was meeting.

Most people in the world saw books as nothing more than paper bound together. Madam Pince knew better. Each book had it's own story, just as any person did. It was not only the words written in the pages, but also in the hands that had held it. There were no personalities, but there were emotions. Strong emotions that seeped into the ink and glue.

Irma picked up the next book and felt the emotions sweep over her. She was the fourth owner of this book, she could tell. She watched the story of the book play out before she even looked at the title. Once she had, she smiled softly and added it to a small pile on the side. She then picked up the next book.

That evening Irma made her way down to the dungeons holding four books to her chest. She reached her destination and knocked on the door firmly. A gruff "Enter" was her only response. She smiled slightly, knowing that the treasures she carried would please the man. Inside she found Severus Snape sitting on his little green couch drinking some kind of amber liquid. But when he saw her, and saw what she carried he stood up and a small smile graced his face. "Irma." He said in a tone few ever heard. He kissed her cheek as was polite and had her sit. "What do you have for me today?"

She placed the books on her knees and picked up the first and handed it to the man. He evaluated the book before turning and waiting. "This book was first penned in 1856. I know that the subject may appear inappropriate to you, why would you need "A Woman's Guide to Daffodils" but it appears that in the 1920's the second owner of the book, a young gentleman with the smell of potions on his fingers cast a spell on the book. Soon after his blood was spilled on the cover. The third owner of the book, an older gentleman whose hands smell like the Ministry of Magic, tried to break the spell, he was unsuccessful."

"This spell would be..."

"I believe two books have been merged together. The first is as you see it, the other is the personal potions diary of the second owner. I am not sure how to break the spell, but considering the amount of magic the Ministry man expelled trying to read it, it must be interesting at least."

"Thank you Irma." He flipped through the pages for a moment before nodding and turning back to her. "What else have you got?"

"These three have a far less interesting tale to tell. The first two are second print limited editions of both the "Book of Potions" and the DUoIIP."

"Really?" His eyes found them far more interesting as he quickly took in the inscriptions and state of both books. After a moment though his eyes turned to the last book which was blood red. "And that one?"

Irma picked up gently and smiled at the cover. "There have been no previous owners, and this is the only book of it's kind." A bit reluctantly she handed it to the man. She stared at her skirt and held still. She could hear him flip through the pages and heard him pause at the inscription at the end. "There is a spell that will allow only you to read it. You can of course gift it to someone to read if you ever want to." There was still a heavy silence. She closed her eyes for a moment before turning to look at the statue of a man. "The words and memories you write into the book would be inaccessible to anyone who cannot read the book."

They sat for quite a while staring at each other and Irma retraced her decision. It hadn't taken her long to figure out that Severus Snape was stressed. She knew the old allegations that he was a Death Eater. She also knew the rumors that he worked for Dumbledore. With two powerful wizards watching Snape she was sure there were some things he didn't want anyone to know. Severus Snape had always been a mystery novel to her. When they first began to work together she only saw the Dungeon Bat, and she was merely the Library Vulture. Her reasons for being harsh on students were vastly different than his. But she remembered the first day she had seen him handle a book. It had been with such care. It had been so graceful. Only a few weeks after that did she notice a potion book he might be interested in. She had left her sanctuary and brought it to him. That had begun everything. Many would not call them friends, even if they did know all the details. The two of them only spoke privately perhaps 3 or 4 times a year. But their relationship was sturdier than any others they had.

When she had come across the spell necessary to make the blood red book, she had had no doubt. She had carried it around with her for weeks, ever since January until this moment. Now she felt fear that he would not accept it. But he did. he didn't say thank you, just placed it on top of the other books. She smiled gently at him before making her escape and returning to the books.

* * *

Severus Snape was dead. There was no doubt about it. She had seen the body, the blood. Later, she had found the book. It was not in his private bookcase that she had been allowed to have. And it had not been in his office. It had somehow ended up on top of her desk sitting innocently next to the log book. The moment her hands touched the book tears came to her eyes. And when she opened the pages she only saw one thing.

"Thank you my friend."

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DUoIIP - "Deeper Understanding Of Illegal Ingredients for Potions" A made up book.


	8. Those We've Lost

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Position: Seeker**

**Word Count: 1,371**

* * *

He spotted them walking peacefully down Diagon Alley. Neither seemed to notice the looks they were receiving, but he could see them. There was anger, disappointment, disgust, happiness, but most prominent was envy. Most everyone was envious of their supposed happiness. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. They had been considered the most eligible bachelors for the past 2 years on Witch Weekly's charts. Now they were taken by each other. Dennis would willingly admit that he was also envious. He had wanted one of them. The illustrious couple disappeared from his sight and Dennis turned down to his food and mumbled to himself. An older couple at a nearby table overheard his words before glancing nervously at each other and leaving the restaurant.

"Collin, help me out; what should I do?"

* * *

He approached Malfoy first. The man was working at St. Mungo's as a healer. With a few clever spells to keep other interfering souls away from the hospital, Dennis pulled out a small knife. He checked the charms on the blade before ramming it into his stomach. The pain was intense, he hadn't really prepared for that. But he waited two minutes before vanishing the blood from the stones beneath him and staggering inside.

The moment the nurse saw him she sent up an alarm. Just as planned, Healer Malfoy rushed to answer. Dennis gave them all his story about a crazed stalker. While Malfoy struggled to heal the wound an Auror arrived. Dennis felt his vision go a little hazy but he knew that this was not who he wanted. Using this frustration he accused the Auror of being the stalker. He hadn't seen the face of the stalker so how could he _know_ this wasn't him? The only Auror Dennis could trust was Harry Potter and that was because they went to school together.

As expected, Harry arrived 20 minutes later. When Harry and Draco shared a loving look, Dennis frowned but covered it up as a grimace of pain. He was thrilled that he got to talk to Harry for almost an hour. Collin was so proud. Dennis feigned fear of his mysterious stalker and after much begging, it was for a good cause, he convinced Harry to protect him while he healed. Harry had to check with his boss first, but Dennis was sure that he had slipped enough clues in that his boss wouldn't refuse. This stalker did have a striking resemblance to the case that Harry was on anyway.

After that Malfoy performed some tests on him and said he would need to be under observation for a few days. Again, using the stalker, he was able to convince Malfoy to take personal care of him. It was a dream come true.

* * *

Two days later and Dennis was feeling frustrated. Despite his attempts neither Potter nor Malfoy were truly paying him any attention. Collin advised him in patience but Dennis had waited too long. He sat awake until 1 am when he knew that only Malfoy and a few nurses were working before he summoned the second knife. He used his wand to open the window before making himself look asleep. He then plunged the knife through his right hand pinning him to the bed.

Seconds later Malfoy and a nurse ran in. Malfoy shouted out instructions to the nurse and she, thankfully, ran out the room. Malfoy then reached for the knife. Dennis grinned seconds before the portkey vanished them both.

* * *

Harry was furious. He had been firecalled by Agatha. Agatha had been panicked and when Harry had realized that Draco was missing he had immediately apparated to St. Mungos. Agatha recounted the events as Harry rushed to the scene of the crime. The bed looked fairly innocent except where the blood stained the white sheets. For a moment he froze before he recalled that it was Dennis Creevey's blood. He had been surprised to find Collin's little brother wrapped up in this craziness. He hadn't seen him since Collin's funeral.

Harry desperately hoped Draco was ok. Taking a deep breath he chanted a spell. A watery form of Dennis appeared on the bed. This spell was new out of the Department of Mysteries. It worked in a similar manner to cameras and allowed you to view events of the past. With certain limitations of course. It was Agatha who gasped when they saw Dennis stab himself. Harry felt his eyes narrow and his blood rush. When Draco touched the blade and Harry saw the smile on Dennis' face he growled, He was furious.

* * *

The moment the portkey dropped them, Draco shoved Dennis Creevey away from him. He tried to turn on the spot and found that he was under anti-apparition wards. His eyes scanned the room and narrowed on the only door. It stood behind Creevey. Creevey was leaning against the door, the knife still sticking out of his hand. Draco froze when he noticed the sneer on the man's face. That was not the look of a Gryffindor. In fact, there was only one other person he had ever seen look like that. Bellatrix Lestrange. Creevey began to talk, and Draco noticed with a sense of dread that the man was not talk to him.

"Look Colin. I got Draco. I know, I know. You want Harry. But do you really think that Harry won't come looking for Draco? Wait? What! Why would Draco leave? He's here to protect me!" Creevey paused and looked straight at Draco. "You are going to stay aren't you. I don't want to have to lock you up. It doesn't fit you." Draco nodded reluctantly even as he eyed the door. Dennis Creevey began to speak again to the invisible person as Draco reached for his wand. The weight lifted off of his chest as he fingered the familiar piece of wood.

"Don't get mad at me Colin. I did my best. Harry is an Auror now. You had a hard enough time getting the pictures in Hogwarts. It would have been impossible to trick Harry like we tricked Draco." Dennis teared up. "Don't yell at me! I did my best. I did what you told me to do. What more do you want?"

Draco took this moment to cast a stunner at the man. Draco finally took his breath of relief when it hit the man square in the chest. The next second the door flew open and whacked Creevey on his back. His unconscious body flew toward Draco and without a thought Draco stepped out of the way. He winced slightly as Creevey's head hit the wall. It would be easy enough to fix, but he wondered if he could convince everyone to leave it alone.

"Draco." The blonde looked up and found Harry leaning against the doorframe with a smile on his face.

"I got him first." Draco said simply.

Harry lost the smile and pouted at Draco. "Damn. I was hoping I had finally saved you."

"Not yet wonderboy."

Harry growled before stalking forward and pressing Draco to the wall. "Don't call me that!"

"Make me." Draco smirked.

They both wavered before Harry picked up a smile. "No." Harry walked out of the room, levitating the unconscious form of Dennis Creevey behind him. This time Draco growled and followed after Harry.

* * *

Two weeks later and Dennis Creevey was placed permanently in St. Mungo's Psych ward. According to his parents, he had moved out the year before and the letters they had received indicated that nothing was wrong. But to Dennis Creevey, Colin was alive and with him always. Half of what he said was directed toward his dead brother. The healer in charge, Healer Daina, held hope that she could cure Dennis without permanently damaging his brain. It would take years however. Harry had offered to help, thinking his connection to the Creevey's would somehow help. But Healer Daina shook her head. They were both advised to stay far from the last Creevey son even if he left St. Mungo's "healed."

As time moved on the two of them would wonder at Creevey's state of mind. But Dennis only focused on calming his angry brother. The brother that would never forgive me.


	9. Being Glad

**Written for the Fanfition League Fanfiction Competition**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Position: Seeker**

**Word Count: 2199**

* * *

The first thing he noticed when he entered the storage room was the dust. Neville instantly grew curious. He had known that door was warded from his entry, but he never expected that even the house elves would have been kept away. A small smile appeared on his face. It did not surprise him in the least that his grandmother had some secrets. For a moment he debated exiting the room and leaving it alone. But the need to reconnect with Augusta Longbottom urged him forward.

For the first few minutes he wandered about in a daze. His fingers left trails on the boxes, his feet on the floor; but his eyes traced the dancing patterns that swirled in the light from the window. The past two weeks since Gram had passed seemed to move slowly. Neville constantly found himself looking for her in the halls or waiting for her at dinner. They had gotten really close this past year, and he couldn't believe she was gone. He was grateful she had passed peacefully in her sleep rather than...

Neville's thoughts were interrupted by something biting his hand. Shocked he looked to find a little journal sitting innocently on the desk he had been tracing. He knew he had felt the bite, even though there wasn't a mouth to be seen. Part of him whispered to leave it alone, but his Gryffindor personality demanded exploration. Out of habit he whispered a spell Harry had taught him. When no dark curses revealed themselves Neville cautiously reached out for the book. Nothing happened. Somehow that made him even more apprehensive. Letting out a breath he opened the cover.

There in recognizable cursive was his Grandmother's name, well her unmarried one at least. Augusta Delilah Clive. He reached forward and felt the paper and words. No magic jumped out at him, and yet he felt compelled to turn the page.

* * *

September 1st 1939.

It's my final year. Final in so many ways. I'm to be married to Christopher Longbottom just a few months after finishing school. I have only met him two times, both this summer, and I can easily say he is a flippant man. There are times I wonder whether this marriage will work out. Per custom he writes me a letter every two weeks, and I am obliged to write back to him. Our interests are horribly different, I fear the only way we will both survive is if we only see each other when we eat. And I suppose I must see him when I join in his bed.

* * *

Neville flushed and looked away from the book. He did not want to imagine his grandparents in bed. Suddenly the dust in the room seemed to make it hard to breathe. Neville turned and left the room, the journal tucked under his arm.

* * *

November 1st 1939

To get ready for the Halloween Ball, all the girls in the dorm got dressed together. After six years of this, I still do not understand the draw to gossip. Luckily Minerva is of the same mind and so we played a game of chess while some other girls used the time to finish their hair. Minerva is a decent companion, although I am afraid I lost the chance for friendship somewhere along the years.

The ball itself was nice enough. I was not surprised to see many girls break Society's Rules and dance twice with men not their intended. I however stuck to propriety and only danced with each young man once. I suppose I should be honest with you. I wanted to dance with Jeremiah Smith more than once. Mr. Smith is a Ravenclaw, and throughout our dance I found his conversation delightful and his skill at the waltz adequate. Perhaps if I was not engaged to Mr. Longbottom I would have joined the other frivolous girls and asked for another dance. But it is useless to dwell on wishes and wants. The truth of the matter is that I am engaged to Mr. Longbottom, and as wonderful of a dance partner as Mr. Smith is, he is of half-blood and my parents would never allow it.

* * *

November 16th 1939

I find my heart a bit troubled. Ever since that dance, Mr. Smith has sought out my company. We merely study together in public spaces, but still I can feel his lingering glances on my skin when he thinks I am not paying attention. Sometimes his fingers linger a little too long after greeting me. As much as I hate to admit it, I do not detest his company. As much as I know I should decline his invitation for study each day, my mouth runs ahead of me and says yes. I know that the eyes of those around us see nothing to note, but should my heart pound so much when he smiles?

* * *

December 2nd 1939

It has been noticed. Minerva mentioned to me that some girls were whispering about the constant company of Jeremiah. I, of course, immediately denied any involvement beyond companions. But what if my family hears of this and assumes I will disgrace them? My father would never forgive me for this, and my brother would punch Jeremiah. It does not matter if it is true or not.

But I cannot help feel but I have misinterpreted Jeremiah's intentions. He does not attempt to do anything but study with me. Perhaps I am the fool.

* * *

December 26th 1939

Mr. Longbottom joined my family for Christmas dinner. Something has changed about him, he seems less aggravating to my sense than he did last summer. I cannot account for it. And while I thought our letters were simply for propriety, he gift was full of thoughtfulness and illustrated his attention to details.

The broach is simply beautiful. I believe I only mentioned once my love of the vulture to him. It is perhaps unusual enough to gain attention, but I had not thought he would take that into consideration. And our conversation after dinner was pleasant and altogether enjoyable. Perhaps being married to this man would not be as difficult as I once thought.

* * *

January 4th 1940

Jeremiah gave me a flower broach. It is beautiful, delicate; but I would never wear it. It is far too gaudy for my tastes. He also took a bit more liberty than before in way he looks at me. It all seem so wrong. I do not understand how he gives me such a false impression after only 3 weeks apart! I do not know what to do with the wretched flower. I have seen Minerva's eyes linger on it...

* * *

February 26th 1940

Oh today was so... so... I cannot even find the word! It is my birthday and it started so wonderful! I received a letter from Christopher and a present. The book he sent is horribly intriguing. I do not know much about the United States of America, and told Christopher so in my last letter. He had mentioned a kind of muggle people that he called "Native Americans." He sent me a book on their old beliefs, as written by a proper British Wizard Anthropologist. Christopher assures me that to book is interesting to read. I have only yet read the introduction, but I am afraid he is correct.

But everything went downhill after lunch. I met Mr. Smith for our usual study hour. He acted oddly and asked if I could find some book in the deeper part of the library. I am not terribly Naive but I fear that my mind was still thinking about Christopher's gift that I did not doubt his words. He, of course, followed me and accosted my person. He stole a kiss! It was absolutely horrid. I am glad for the training I have received. I managed to detach his arms and walk away proudly.

But you may notice that even my hand shakes as I write. I know that tomorrow I will be calm and sure and approach the Headmaster with my complaint, but I fear that the kiss will spread across the school. What if Christopher hears about it. I have found the prospect of marrying him less and less daunting. I can tell that he is an honorable man and possibly a wonderful husband. I find myself waiting for each letter. But perhaps this will break the engagement. I know other arranged marriages that were cancelled for less. Perhaps I will never be Augusta Longbottom, and I find that disappointing.

* * *

February 28th 1940

The whole school knows. Considering the circumstances, I cannot help but be pleased. After I spoke with the Headmaster I wrote to Christopher explaining the circumstances. I also wrote to my parents expressing my fear that Christopher would break the engagement.

Yesterday Mr. Smith was no where to be seen, and I cannot tell you how grateful I was for that, but he was at breakfast this morning. He had the audacity to come toward me and call me a name I could not ever write. On the outside the word washed over me, but on the inside I quivered. I stood to confront him, but the words I spoke are already forgotten to me. He spouted lies about how we had done horribly inappropriate things. He spoke lies, but I could see those around me believe him. Only Minerva looked unimpressed, I must remember to speak to her about that. I insulted him, I don't remember how and he had the nerve to slap me!

The whole hall was silent. Than there was the sound of a lion. Shocked, I looked to see Christopher storming towards us. I briefly noticed that he and the Headmaster must have come through the door behind the Head Table. I feared how much he had heard. But then there was a dull noise and I saw Mr. Smith fly away and land on the Hufflepuff table. Christopher then turned to me. With gentle fingers he touched my cheek. Our eyes met for a moment before he smiled just slightly and kissed my forehead.

He was a tad familiar with me, wrapping his arm around my waist, but I couldn't force myself to step away. It wasn't until this moment that I realize he was quite fit, and his cologne was pleasing to smell. I am ashamed to say I was so absorbed in my findings I failed to notice the quick argument between Christopher and Mr. Smith, but watched as Mr. Smith stormed from the room.

Minerva stood and helped me to the infirmary to ease the pain of my cheek as well as separate me from the curious looks of our fellow students. Christopher returned to the Headmaster's side. I turned to look at him and watched the pair of them walk out of the door they had come in through. I think...

* * *

March 13th 1940

I am sorry for my broken entry from before. I no longer remember what interrupted my writing. Life has become simpler. Mr. Smith was expelled from school. I can't help but admit it is a relief I do not have to see him. Christopher has also expressed the wish to marry me sooner than planned, and I could not help but agree with him. Our wedding date is now a week after graduation. Minerva is my new study partner, and I say that we are closer to being friends then we ever were before.

The NEWTs are coming up, and I find that I will dedicate more time to studying then continuing to update this journal. I have found a spell to turn this journal into a mouse. It is possibly that the transformation will damage the journal permanently. I can't say that I would be too bothered by this fact. I will transform it on a later date though, perhaps after I have truly mastered the spell.

* * *

May 4th 1940

I will transform the journal now. I have no need to use it anymore. I graduated 2 days ago. I am glad to be finished with Hogwarts. I am glad I can now count Minerva one of my friends. I am glad that I am to be married to Christopher in 5 days times. I am glad...

* * *

Neville smiled at the journal. He had always been bad at inanimate to animate object tranfiguration, but there was one spell that Luna had taught him once. Neville concentrated and transfigured the journal into a little stone vulture. He than recalled the spell Hermione had tutored him at during 3rd year and cast a permanent charm on the vulture. Now the stone could never be transfigured again.

For the next few days Neville would stare at the statue and contemplate putting it in with his grandmother as she was buried. But when the day came to go to the funeral, he couldn't find it. He searched his entire office, questioned the house elves, and checked the storage room. But he could not find the statue. He couldn't help but laugh. It was part of her past that she had hidden away. Something she hadn't mentioned, and in a way he was glad.


	10. Auror Harry and October

**Written for the Fanfiction League Quidditch Competition**

**Team: Tutshill Tornados**

**Position: Seeker**

**Word Count: 1327**

* * *

Harry hated cases like this. He growled low in his throat and threw the case file onto his desk and walked to the office water tank. October 31st was always a harsh day, it always had been. Sure he had bad luck on that day, but the head Auror was way too suspicious for Harry's liking. After 3 years of being an Auror, Dirkey had decided that Harry was to have easy cases only through the months of October and November. Nothing Harry said would make the man give him the more challenging cases.

This case was particularly boring. Just someone stealing a bunch of magic quills. From the Department. One of the trainees could have been put on this case. But no. Harry had to do it. The water tank exploded and Harry growled again even as he used his magic to clean up the mess. Ron popped his head out of a nearby stall, glanced at Harry before smiling sympathetically.

"October 1st. Dirkey already have you on a case?"

"Yeah." Harry walked over toward his best friend hoping he wouldn't explode the tank again.

"What's he have you on this time?"

"The case of the missing quills."

Ron winced again and glanced at his own collection of quills. "I hate to say it mate, but it would be great if you could solve it. I've lost three quills this week alone. I can't even ask Hermione to buy me some more because she's been in a mood for about a month." Harry kept a straight face, he knew the reason he just hoped Hermione would tell Ron soon.

A paper memo flew to Ron, and Ron opened it. "Sorry mate, I have a meeting to head off to."

"Anything exciting?" Harry asked, even knowing he would regret the answer.

"A new serial."

They shared a brief look before Ron said goodbye and left Harry behind. Harry sighed and went back to his own desk. Some of the papers had slipped out of the folder and Harry picked up the first one. It was a list of every Quill theft complaint from the past month. He had to admit that 15 complaints from members of the Auror Department were quite a lot. Harry groaned once more before grabbing a Quick Quill and going to interview every person in the department.

The same thing happened at every desk. They greeted Harry, glanced at their calenders, than winced in sympathy at Harry. Of the 28 Aurors in the Department, including the trainees, only 12 of them had filed a complaint. But every Auror reported that they had been losing Quills. That was the only similarity between them. Quills seemed to disappear at anytime of the day, while aurors were away from their desk, one of them even claimed turning away for a second and finding it missing in the next. None of the Quills had turned up again.

The one break Harry had was that Agatha, one of the trainees, reported that the quill she had lost had been monogrammed with her initials as a gift. If he could find whoever had that quill, it was likely they had all the others as well. Harry went to the Department of Departmental Regulations and filed the paperwork that would allow him to take a sample of Agatha's magical signature. She signed it readily and Harry worked the spell that would lead him to any place within 500 meters that had her magical signature.

Trying not to let this task bother him, Harry set off for the first nearest location. He was not surprised to find it to be the toilet. After checking that no one was in the toilet Harry went in to investigate. He doubted the quills were here, but if he didn't check and they had managed to be here he would feel stupid. Her magic was coming from a little stack of makeup kits. He checked the spell used and found it was only a color changing spell.

He was off again. Two hours later and Harry had been throughout the Auror Department; searched the Atrium; and found himself in the Minister's office, he did not want to know why he found her knickers transfigured into a pen and judging by the Minister's face he didn't want to know either. Harry than released the spell and walked back to the Auror department to meet Ron for lunch. After a quick fried chicken dinner at a nearby muggle resteraunt, Harry approached Agatha and reactivated the spell.

At the end of the day Harry found himself walking down a familiar corridor. He really hoped he wasnt going to have to enter the Department of Mysteries, but luck was never on his side in October. When he arrived in the spinning room he was drawn straight to a door behind him. Opening it he found a library. Once inside the room he could feel the Dark Arts seeping from the bookcases around him and he shivered.

"What are you doing here?" A stern voice demanded.

Harry turned to find a figure in a grey cloak. Magic was causing Harry to avoid the face and he grew instantly annoyed. If it wasn't for the DM pin on the left shoulder, Harry would have attacked the man? woman? "Well?"

"I'm following a magical signature. I'm looking for the missing quills from the Auror Department."

"They sent Harry Potter to look for quills?"

"Please don't ask."

There was a pause. "Very well. But did you say quills?"

"Yes." Harry grew instantly curious. The figure sighed and gestured that Harry follow him. Harry did so and he was impressed with the size of the library, although not with it's collection. Finally they arrived at a wooden door. The figure knocked four times, paused, and than knocked again.

"Password?" A female voice called out.

"Horndingers." The figure answered. The door opened and Harry stared ahead in shock. It was a fairly large room, but it was filled with quills. Thousands and thousands of quills. Harry felt a headache coming on. "Trina, did you take quills from the Auror Department."

"Of course." The voice made Harry look at the far left corner. There, a woman's head was peaking from underneath a large pile of quills. "I needed to check for ites."

"Ites?" Harry asked before he could help himself. The figure glared at him, obviously upset at his question.

The figure spoke up before the woman, Trina, could go on an obvious rant about what an "ite" was. Harry was suddenly reminded of Luna and couldn't help the small smile that graced his lips. "Trina, did you file the paperwork before you took the quills?" The silence was the only answer they needed. "Do you need more quills?"

"No."

The figure turned to Harry. "Are there any particular quills you need back?"

Harry nodded. "A monogramed Quill with a AG, and a silver tipped quill with a lightweight charm."

"Trina."

The head disappeared into the pile and some of the quills spilled down to cover the hole. Seconds later her head popped out and the two quills flew through the air to land in Harry's hand, if only because of his quick reflexes. "Goodbye Harry Potter." Trina said before once more disappearing into the pile.

The figure pushed Harry out of the doorframe, shut the door and walked him all the way to the spinning room. The figure pointed to one of the doors. "That is the way out." Harry nodded in thanks and left. He tried not to think of the strangness of the whole situation, and managed to write up his entire report before the end of the day.

When he gave it to Dirkey, the man nodded and handed Harry another case before pushing him out of the room. Harry took a deep breath before looking in the file. It was a domestic complaint. Just wonderful. Harry could not wait for December.


	11. Lucky Lucy

**Written For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Tutshill Torandoes Seeker**

**Word Count: 1081**

* * *

At the beginning of each school year, Uncle Harry always reminded them that they could choose the house they wanted. But for her first year at Hogwarts, she knew it was more directed at her cousins Rose and Albus. He tried to hide it, but Lucy had always known she was his least favorite niece. She didn't know why, but she was everyone's least favorite niece. They even liked Molly more than they liked her. Lucy knew she was a lot quieter then all of her cousins. She even knew she was not as pretty as Molly. But she didn't know why silence always spread in the house when she walked into a room.

So when Albus was talking to his father about his fears, Lucy slipped away from the crowd. She pulled the hood of her sweater over her hair and sat on a nearby bench. From her perch she could see the parents and students milling about. It seemed chaotic, but she could see the beauty of it. Her interest was drawn to a boy with hair as vibrant as hers, although silver rather than red. Unlike everyone else, he stood quietly with his father and mother and observed the crowd much in the same way she was. His silver eyes caught hers, and she saw an echo of calm in his eyes. She nodded her head and he nodded back. The train whistle blew and she slipped onto the train with a quick goodbye to her parents.

* * *

The train ride was... discouraging. Victoire had took it upon herself to make sure that Lucy sat with the rest of the family. So there was one compartment packed with Victoire, Dominique, Molly, Fred, James, Louis, Rose, Albus, and herself. Luckily it didn't last long. Victoire, and Louis were both prefects and had to go to a meeting. Molly and Dominique quickly disappeared as well. Lucy tried to leave, but Fred wrapped his arm around her shoulders and wouldn't let her go. She could barely see out the window. So she spent the entire train ride listening to James tell Albus he would end up in Slytherin, and Fred tell Rose all the best places to hide. No one talked to her.

* * *

"Weasley, Lucy." There was hardly a murmur in the hall as another Weasley was sorted.

"Weasley, Eh? I know what to..."

"Please don't." She interrupted. She didn't want to be judged based on her family.

"Oh... VERY interesting. I see Potter has been leaving some advice around where anyone can find it. Let's see... You are too content for Ravenclaw... yes yes... And too vicious for Hufflepuff..."

"Vicious..." but it didn't let her interrupt.

"My my. This IS a first. My dear, you can be Gryffindor or Slytherin, and I think we both know where you will go." She said nothing. But if the hat could have smirked it would have. "SLYTHERIN!"

Stunned silence filled the hall as the hat was removed.

* * *

Lucy found herself more and more isolated from the rest of her cousins. During Christmas, Uncle Harry tried to act friendly, but it was really no different than before. But Uncle Ron visibly flinched the first time he had seen her. But all was not so bad. The boy she had seen at the Platform was in Slytherin as well. She wasn't sure if they were friends, but they were at least alleys. When Christmas Day had arrived, the entire Weasley clan had froze when an owl baring the Malfoy Crest arrived. Lucy, however, remained calm. She put the gift on top of the small pile of packages she had yet to open, and fed the owl a piece of bacon. The family chose not to comment, even when the package revealed a delicate bracelet. Although, Lucy was pretty sure she saw Uncle Harry cast a spell at it before she put it on.

* * *

Her first two years passed fairly quickly. Once the family discovered that Lucy truly fit in Slytherin house, and her best friend was a Malfoy, they slowly began to ignore her. By her third year she knew that it was not intentional. She had finally read enough about the war they had all gone through to know why the Malfoy name made Uncle Ron finch. Part of her wondered whether she could have survived the years if she hadn't been in Slytherin. The house had taught her control over her emotions, and how to judge a person's friendship.

* * *

By her Fourth year, it had become glaringly obvious to the Hogwart Weasleys, that Lucy was Queen of Slytherin. Lucy herself, however, hadn't noticed. It had happened gradually over her first three years. She had incredible luck. Those who went up against her, either privately or publically, always seemed to fall into embarrassing situations. It had become a thing of gossip. Most of Hogwarts waited for baited breath for the next moment. At first, many believed it was the result of her prankster relatives, but all of them quickly cleaned their hands of the situation. Than the blame turned to Scorpius, but some things were just impossible for him to achieve.

So just before Finals began in December, Lucy's nickname began to show. "K". It had been a joke of a 2nd year. "The only letter missing from her name is 'K'. They should have named her Lucky." A sixth year had overheard, and privately, agreed. By the end of the school year, all of Slytherin called her K. Lucy didn't mind as she was no longer called Weasley.

* * *

Draco Malfoy couldn't' believe the blood feud was ending. He would have protested if he did not like the girl so much. There were times she reminded him of his own mother. He had seen the signs coming for years, and so with trepidation, he had invited Percy Weasley to dinner one night. The next step was a dinner with the Golden Trio plus Potter's wife. When his son finally proposed, very publically he might add, it was a joy to see the shock on all of the Weasleys. Apparently, they hadn't been paying attention. Astoria was thrilled. She had always wanted a daughter. He had been surprised at the friendship that had blossomed between his wife and Audrey Weasley. The woman appeared timid, but he soon learned that if she had attended Hogwarts, she would have been Slytherin.

The fanfare began, and he looked with the crowd to see his soon-to-be Daughter-in-Law walk down the aisle.


	12. A Hurt Heart

**A nice emotional one. **

**Warning for Implied... almost... suicide? I don't know. Just warning regardless.**

* * *

Silence. That was what she loved about being up here on the broom. It was the silence that surrounded her and wrapped its arms around her. A tear slipped from her eye and she watched it float to the ground until she couldn't see it anymore. With a sigh she on her stomach on the broom. From up here all she could see was green. It didn't matter if there was anyone below her. But the more she looked at the green, the more her memories invaded her mind. Her fingers turned whiter and whiter as they gripped the handle in pain. All she could see was his face. She hadn't known him, but she would guess he had been only a few years older than her. He had brown eyes and brown hair. He was slightly handsome. And he was dead.

Katie threw herself back into a loop. When the broom leveled she lay her back precariously resting on the bristles and stared up at the blue above her. The same thoughts as always swamped her mind. Why had it been _that_ spell? Why had it been successful? Why had she even thought it? These thoughts swirled around and clouds swirled in. She didn't notice. She didn't dare talk to anyone about it. Everyone had "killed" someone. But she knew that no one else had used that spell. They had not intended to kill. She had. The first raindrop startled her slightly, and she was surprised to see dark and heavy clouds above her. As the rain began to pour on her, she didn't move. She instead focused on the feeling. It was mind numbing. It was wonderful. But moments later the silence was broken.

"KATIE!" Katie turned her head a bit and found Oliver Wood speeding toward her and her broom. She had loved him once. Biting her lip, she turned away. "Katie!" He gasped as he pulled him broom level with hers. "What are you doing up here?" Katie wasn't sure what to say so she ignored him and listened to the rain. She could hear him speaking, but she let the rain drown out his words. She paid him just enough attention that when he reached for her, she nudged the broom out of his reach. He tried again. And again. He seemed to be screaming at this point, but she ignored it. She looked down. The bright green was now a dark tinge almost brown. She chuckled humorlessly.

She sat up and gripped the handle. And down she sped. Part of her wondered whether she could pull up at the last minute like Harry had during his first match. Part of her wondered whether she should try. The ground came closer and closer. Something smashed into her side. Once she had regained control over her broom she turned to find Harry Potter floating beside her. He looked determined. She didn't know what he would say, didn't want to find out. She turned her handle and raced away. He followed her. She knew he could fly faster than her, and it angered her that he wasn't trying to get ahead. She used every flying technique she knew to try and throw him off. But he didn't give up. Finally she dropped to the ground. Dropped her broom and ran.

She felt his arm around her waist before she really registered it. Than suddenly she found herself sitting in front of Harry on his broom. She hadn't realized she was crying, but the sob caught in her throat. "Let me go Potter."

"No." He whispered into her ear, continuing to fly too fast for her to escape. The rain had stopped, and so had her tears by the time they slowed down. Katie didn't recognize where they were, but she felt the anti-apparition wards. He landed them on the grass and she stood still. It was very quiet here. Harry sat on the grass, heedless of the water beneath him. "Matthew Witcher."

It shocked her. "Who?"

"Matthew Witcher. He was fairly young. Went to Azkaban when he was 18 for some... horrible crimes." He paused, but Katie didn't interrupt. "He escaped with Bellatrix and the rest of them and immediately took up with Voldemort again." She flinched. "In the course of just 3 years, he killed hundreds of children." She caught the implication and felt her heart freeze.

"What about him?"

"He's dead." Harry said simply. He stood and walked to a nearby house she hadn't noticed. "But anyway, there's some stew in here whenever you want some." Katie looked at the open door. She wasn't an idiot. Somehow Harry knew she had killed a man. She wondered whether that was true about the man she killed or not. He could have been lying to make her feel better. Katie looked up at the cloudy sky. They were white now. The clouds... Katie took a deep breath before cautiously entering the house.

* * *

**I may possibly turn this into a Multi-chapter Harry/Katie story. Don't know. Pm or Review if you would be interested in reading it.**


	13. Welcome to the Winning Side

**Written for the Ultimate Battle Competition and the Greek Mythology Mega Prompt challenge**

**Word Count: 1214**

* * *

The small rat sat shivering in fear in the corner of the room. He watched as humans threw bolts of light at one another. He watched as one after another, all those he recognized fell. One curse after another. Fear gripped him even further. It wasn't supposed to happen like this. They weren't supposed to be losing! They had outnumbered their opponents 5 to 1. But it wasn't doing any good. His friends would have made the difference. They would have found a way to change the course of this battle. But they weren't here. They had went on a different mission. The three of them together, and him alone on this mission. Not like this was the first time either. It was always them and him. He was always separate. They had each other.

The rat shook his head. Thinking these thoughts would not change the course of this battle. He had to do something. He did the only thing he could think of. He began pray for his friends to arrive. His friends would save him. They may be separate, but the Marauders always protected their own. They had made a pact about that. They couldn't break the pact. But even as he reminded himself of that, the last ally fell. He heard an incantation and a growl. He had no hope now. The wolf would find the rat. The rat turned and ran as fast as he could. But it wasn't enough. A hand engulfed his middle and lifted him into the light.

"Well well well. Look what I've got here! A rat. That smells mighty like a human." Peter shivered in fear at the sight of Fenrir licking his lips.

In desperation he transformed back. The hand was now wrapped around his throat and he squeaked. "WAIT!"

Fenrir snarled before dropping Peter and pointing his wand at him. "Why should I?"

"Because I have information!"

"Information?"

"Yes! I can... I can be your spy! I am in the Order..." Peter whimpered.

"Spy. We have no need for another one of those. I can just rip the information out of your head!" Before the wolf could do it, a Death Eater stepped forward and whispered into his ear. The wolf grinned viciously, and it was all the Peter could do not to wet himself. "Very well. Let's take you to our Lord."

* * *

Peter stared at the stone beneath him. In his head he was chanting. "James. Sirius. Lupin. James. Sirius. Lupin." But it had been hours now. They still weren't here. But Peter still felt a glimmer of hope. They were his friends. They would come for him. The Death Eaters had thrown him into this cell while they waited for their Lord to return. And when the key turned the lock, Peter looked up hopefully. It wasn't his friends. It was only more Death Eaters. They dragged him from his cell and up stairs. Eventually they went through a door and threw him onto the floor. Peter groaned first with pain, than with fear. He was surrounded by hundreds of Death Eaters. And one Dark Lord. There was no doubt.

"Peter Pettigrew. Fighter of Light. You are on the wrong side of the war." The words sounded so believable, but Peter shook his head. The Dark Lord continued. "Do you honestly think your side will win?" There was a pause, and tittering laughter could be heard throughout the hall. "They can't even protect you." Peter flinched. "They don't even care. Those so-called friends of yours." Peter felt a small part of him rear up. It was his Gryffindor side. It was begging him to defend his friends. But the Dark Lord was right. His friends weren't here. "They never are." Peter flinched again at the words that struck close to home. "You said you wanted to spy for us." Peter blinked. Reluctantly he nodded. "We do already have spies. Why would you be a better spy?" Peter didn't know how to answer. He saw the end of his life. "Crucio." The man whispered. Pain absorbed him. Time disappeared as he felt only the pain, and heard only the laughter and his own screams. It stopped. "I asked you a question." Peter was still recovering and didn't answer. Again the curse came.

Again and again.

Finally it ended. Some black blobs grabbed his hands and dragged him from the room. He slept fitfully, chanting still. They would come. The next day it repeated. But this time it wasn't the Dark Lord who tortured him. No it was Severus Snape. A small part of him noticed how far the little slimy git had risen. A part of him recognized the Dark Lord's protection. On the third day, he was dragged to the Dark Lord once more. "So Pettigrew... Do you know why you would be a better spy yet?"

Peter said the first words he could think of. "I am trusted." Peter flinched again, fearing the curse but there was nothing. Peter thought hastily before continuing. "I am in the Inner Circle of the Order. I can find out anything. They all trust me!" Silence. "I am also an Animagus. I'm unregistered! The Ministry doesn't know..."

"But we know." A familiar voice snarled. Peter ignored the wolf, and kept his eyes trained on the edge of the Dark Lord's robes.

"Very well. Shall we test you?"

* * *

Peter closed his eyes for a moment before pushing into Number 12. There was no one in the immediate hallway. Peter sighed softly. He looked up at the ceiling and thought of his friends for a moment. The Dark Lord may have spelled him unable to say anything. But his friends would know something was wrong. They would know. Seconds later James came hurtling down the stairs.

"Heya Pete!" Than he went into the kitchen. Peter was frozen. He had been missing for days. The rest of the members who had gone with him were all severely hurt, or dead. How could they have missed that he was missing! Peter bit his bottom lip and entered the kitchen. Order members swarmed to and fro. Something was going to happen soon. But all Peter could really think about was the quick greetings the whole group gave him. Not one person had noticed he was gone. As he approached the four in the corner they smiled. They said hello. Than they moved onto the next order of business. But all Peter could think about, all he could focus on, was the betrayal. Not even James' Lily, not even the woman who had always been kind to him, not even she noticed his absence.

When he left the house the next day, he had the secret plans tucked into his pocket. He arrived at the meeting with the Dark Lord. Without hesitation he bowed before the Dark Lord. Than he asked one thing. "May I have your Mark?" Some of the nearby Death Eaters hissed at his impertinence. But he had been a Gryffindor. The Dark Lord considered his carefully before pressing his wand to the bared arm. The time, the only name in his mind, was his own. And when he rose, he discarded it. "Call me Wormtail my lord."

"Very well. Welcome to the winning side Wormtail."

* * *

**So I really don't know what I think about this. I've always wanted to write about why Wormtail turned, but I just wasn't feeling the traitor much today. Despite my Muse. Please let me know what you think.**


	14. Araxie's Voice

**Hello.**

**This is a short bit behind the voice in the Champions' Eggs. (Year 4)**

**This was written for the Pokemon Journey**

**Prompt: Water**

**Word Count: 551**

* * *

Araxie was one of the five summoned to speak with the powerful human. She was not there to give her opinion, rather to lend her voice. The humans were holding a battle of strength, and they wanted her voice as part of the tests. Araxie was not yet old enough to mate, but her voice made many flock to her. Araxie had heard many of their voices, both in song and in courtship, but none of them seemed to resonate with her own.

As the five of them approached the meeting place Araxie took the time to feel the water around her. That was music she would never be able to replicate. The different currents that trailed along her tail and body. Before she knew what she was doing she began to sing softly to herself.

"You truly have a beautiful voice my dear."

Araxie was shocked out of her revere. No one was allowed to compliment her voice until she was old enough. The three males who had come with all bared their teeth. They would have bared their weapons as well, but Melite had made them leave their weapons. Perhaps the wise female had expected this. "Dumble... it is rude to comment on the voice of one so young."

It was then that Araxie found the voice. A human male had only his head submerged in the water, and his silver human pelt swirled gently in the water. The human closed its eyes for a moment. "I do apologize."

Araxie found the human's voice to hold no falsehood so she replied. "You are not waterfolk. You did not know."

The words were worth it if only for Melite's look of pride. "Dumble. This is Araxie. She will sing your song."

Araxie felt her gills freeze for a moment. It was this human's song? She shivered slightly. She had never song another's song before. But she was broken from her revere by a piece of kelp floating toward her. The words were floating above it in a language she could read. Some humans needed the music to be written down as well, but Araxie could feel the notes that went with each and every word.

"Whenever you are ready dear." The human said softly from above her.

"I am ready now." The human lowered a hand holding a stick into the water. Araxie could feel the power flowing down the currents toward her. She shivered again.

"Begin."

_Come seek us where our voices sound,_

_We cannot sing above the ground,_

_And while you're searching ponder this;_

_We've taken what you'll sorely miss,_

_An hour long you'll have to look,_

_And to recover what we took,_

_But past an hour, the prospect's black,_

_Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.**_

The bubbles that contained the song were captured by the human. One of the males ushered her away at Melite's words and Araxie glanced back briefly. She wondered if all humans knew how to write songs. The song she had song was more of a riddle, but she wondered if her mate was human. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she pushed it away. No human could ever join her here, and no human could ever have the voice to accompany hers. She would just have to wait.

* * *

_**As much as I wish I wrote this riddle, this was done by JK Rowling. Oh and if it looks a bit odd, that's because you need to go and read the book. _


	15. Thank You Tom

**For the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrals**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 1,077**

**Prompt: Death Eater meeting with friend.**

* * *

As was the case every Friday night, Crabbe and Goyle could be found at the Leaky Cauldron with firewhiskey in hand. They sat silently, and most would assume they had nothing to say. This was not true. Both were slowly turning over the choices in their lives. Both had a young son around the same age, and both were thinking about the fights they had with their wives. Even if those around them knew this, perhaps they would assume they were the same or "shared a brain." This was not true either. Where Crabbe was thinking about his son in a loving way, Goyle was still angry that his had destroyed his favorite chair with vomit. Goyle was also thinking of how to ask for forgiveness to his wife, and Crabbe was contemplating divorce although he would never go through with it. Neither man felt the need to pour their troubles to the other. So they sat silently at the bar nursing their drinks.

Now Tom, who owned the bar, had slowly grown used to their presence. In fact, he was so used to them, he could tell who was having the harder time. It was the one who drank the slowest. On this particular night, he could almost see the dark clouds over both man's head and so he grabbed two bowls of beef, lamb, and guinness stew and dropped them in front of the men. Both looked up surprised.

"We didn't order this." Crabbe said gruffly his eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"I know. It's on the house." Tom said with a flick of his hand attempting to dismiss them.

"Why?" Goyle growled. Tom was aggravated to see the man's hand inching toward his wand.

"Because you are good patrons." Tom said, crossing his arms angrily. He could feel the glares of both men, as well as the stares of everyone else in the pub. If they kept this up, Tom would have wizards and witches demanding food daily. Tom leaned forward so he was within speaking distance. "Just take the bloody stew." Tom turned and went to the backroom before either men could answer.

When Tom exited a few minutes later he saw both men eating the stew and he couldn't help the small smile that escaped.

The next week when the two arrived, Tom was surprised to get a "Hello Tom." From them both, rather than the usual grunt. He waited until they weren't working to smile. He wasn't quite sure how they would feel about him smiling in their direction. Tom was pleased to note that both seemed to be in fairly good moods, despite the glares they were sending to a couple that had dared sit next to them. The night went the same way as normal, but when the two left Crabbe hesitated for a moment before saying "See you next week." Goyle grunted in agreement and the two left.

The years continued this way. The three of them never talked too much, but when a drunken patron tried to curse Tom, both men stood in the man's way and escorted him from the pub when he persisted. When Tom happened to overhear that the two of them enjoyed steak and kidney pie, he made sure to make it the next week. Both men had looked at the pie then up to Tom and then back down the pie. They slowly began to eat and Goyle growled out "Too Salty." and Crabbe followed with "Too hot." Various patrons around the room glared at the men for the complaints. Tom knew, however, that this was their way of thanking him. They would never say the words he was sure.

The years continued to pass and he hired a witch to help him at the pub. On most days he used his extra time to go over various bills and search for new drinks. But Fridays he would sit with the two and eat with them. It was an odd sight, skinny Tom sitting between the two bulky men, but it became common enough that no one looked at it sideways. This habit broke one week when the TriWizard Tournament began. The pub was too busy for a single witch so he stood and served at the bar while she dealt with the seated patrons. All while the announcer at the Tournament raved about the students fighting against their dragons. Tom thought it was crazy. Crabbe and Goyle seemed indifferent to it. The second task created quite the rush as well, despite the lack of exciting play-by-play. The third task had witches and wizards standing in each available space. With the noticeable exception of a 2 feet space around the two men seated at the bar. Tom was rushing to fill the various drink orders when he heard his name called. He looked over in surprise to see the two men standing far earlier than they normally left. Both were wearing grimaces of pain. Tom immediately ran over to see if he could help them. The moment he was within distance, Crabbe thrust out his hand and dropped 5 galleons into Tom's hands. Tom stared at the gold coins in shock for a few moments before looking up.

"Thank you Tom." Crabbe said. Tom felt his body go numb.

"Good bye Tom." Goyle leaned over and added 5 more galleons. Before Tom could protest they walked out of the bar, the people parting to let them through. The moment the crowds gathered noticed the vacated space it was filled with wizards and witches calling for more drinks. Numbly Tom dropped the coins into his bag before going about his work. But his mind was elsewhere. He was only shook out of his thoughts by the dead silence in his pub. A boy was dead.

Tom read about Harry and Dumbledore's claims before the next Friday had arrived. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had returned. Tom wasn't a fool, he knew that the two had likely been Death Eaters. But still, he waited on Friday for the two to show up. He waited 2 hours past his normal closing time. The next week he made steak and kidney pie. The next week he cried. The fourth week he was back in action. If anyone noticed him glancing at the door or the stools on Fridays, no one said anything. If they noticed that he never served steak and kidney pie again, well, it was best not to mention it.

* * *

**Last - Credit to my BETA this time round Ari 347**


	16. The Magic of 7

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrels**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 2,665**

* * *

14\. She stared at it until the ink dried and disappeared. She just knew that there was something wrong with the placement of the 14 in the second half of the Life Quality equation. 14 had always been used for its dual interpretations of the months of the year plus the start and ending of a year, and for the interpretation of 1 year and 4 seasons. There were far more interpretations, but those two were the whole reason that this number was sitting next to the 5 that represented her newest cousin's heart number. But as she stared down at it, she realized that this equation, used for hundreds of years, was wrong. Not only wrong it was horribly incorrect. First of all the two interpretations of 14, didn't include the fact that it was a first-level nonprime. The two prime numbers attached to it were the 2 and the 7. The two represented the good and the bad, but the 7... Bridget paused in her writing and looked at the number. 7. It was often discarded as useless. If it really was useless, it would cause the 2's qualities to completely override the 14, due to the 1 at the thirteenth position. This would cause the equation to only consider the extreme situations. Life or Death. Good or Bad. Long or Short. But because of the 18 that was need to balance out the 14, if the 18 was combined with the 2, that would reverse all the answers. Her eyes focused on 14. What was she supposed to do about that 7...

It was like lightning struck her. She quickly grabbed a new writing surface. She first began to write all the instances in which 7 naturally occurred in the world. After finishing she quickly ran over the list one more time, 77 items. Her breath became ragged and her blood began to pulse. She reread all of the items listed and realized that the common connection between them, despite the number itself, was magic. She was a storm as she grabbed the nearest thing to write on and began to write the magical property of her newest favorite number. 7.

She had just finished writing the seventh and final property when an owl swept through the window. Panicked she quickly pulled the collection of nearby paper's on top of the most important one. No one got to see her work before she was finished. Not even an owl. The owl was unaffected by her panic and waited calmly at the windowsill. She noticed that it's brown plumage was only broken by seven black feathers. Bridget walked over to it and untied the letter attached. Agatha Potter simply wanted her to visit soon. Bridget grumbled angrily as she went back to the table, she quickly snatched a blank piece of paper. She scribbled a short agreement before digging through the papers until she found an envelope. She sealed them both before attaching the letter to the bird and sent it off.

Muttering slightly she returned to her table and froze. Where was her 7? She dug through the pile of papers, muttering "revelio" at each one. But the stories, and recipes, and equations did not yield her current obsession. Suddenly, she knew where it was. Running her hands through her hair angrily she grabbed her broom and sped off after the bird. It took 17 minutes for her to catch up it, the blasted thing was fast! However as she reached to retrieve her beautiful 7, the bird snipped at her angrily.

"Give it back, you bloody bird!" The owl hooted before picking up it's pace. She tried again, and was rewarded with a small cut. "It's mine!" The owl either didn't understand or didn't care, she was leaning toward not caring. She tried 5 more times to snatch the letter, and each time she fell short or was rewarded with a nip. She almost tried again, but then she thought of the the 8 attempts it would create. 8 was worse than 14. The 4 seasons mixed with the sun and moon made a nasty combination if not tempered by a 3. She considered trying to grab it 2 times, therefore attempting 9 times total, 3 by a 3 was a nice and firm number, and she was sure she would be able to get it then. However, the disastrous quality of the 8, might result in her losing that 7. Although she could vaguely remember what she wrote on it, she knew that the inspiration needed for her genius was gone. If she lost this, it would take her years to find it again. 8 if she remembered correctly. So she decided to fly with the bird and retrieve it when it delivered her 7.

As she flew through the sky, she realized she had more than enough time to do the calculations, so she went over the numbers, and as her cousin's house became visibly she realized that her guess had been correct. Due to the Reclamation of Information equation, it would take her exactly 8 years to fully recover the 7 sentences she had written down. If she had been born a man it would have taken her 9.3 years. If she had been born a year later, it would only have taken her 3 years. But here was the house, so she broke off of her thoughts and landed before the owl. Agatha opened the door, surprise evident on every feature.

"Bridget. I didn't think to see you so soon."

"Yes, yes, hello Agatha. I'm not here for a visit. Your bird stole something important of mine."

Agatha walked to where the owl sat glaring in a nearby tree. "My little Gladiator did that? What was it?"

"I need that envelope!" If Agatha was startled, she didn't show it. Instead she handed over the unopened letter. A "revelio" later and Bridget felt her stomach drop. This wasn't her 7, this was the cupcake recipe she had decided to try about 3 years ago. She pulled the note from inside and cast another spell, revealing that this paper was truly blank. With a cry of despair she quickly turned and apparated back to her home. She wished, for the first time, that she didn't require the anti-apparition wards to extend 5 miles around her home. 5 for the health of full fingers and toes, and half of 10, without the negative qualities the 2 would bring here. She gripped the broom and sped toward the house.

She ran to the table and cast her spell on every paper, throwing it behind her as it revealed nothing. Finally, there was nothing but a single, unopened packet of sugar. She sighed, her heart lightened, to be safe she cast the spell and saw her words written. She had found her 7.

* * *

She had insisted that she meet with the Arithmancy Society on July 7th to discuss her work. She didn't start speaking until all 17 seats filled. That left 7 more standing. The obviousness of the number she was working on filled the minds of the arithmancy around her. She could see their mocking, and to her absolute horror 2 of them stood to make a seat number of 15 and a stand number of 9. But these two numbers clashed horribly, and the two sat quickly back down, realizing that if they were 17 and 7, even with the "uselessness" of 7, was far better than 5 sets of 3 and 3 sets of 3.

Bridget let out a breath of relief, if they had dared use such numbers during her presentation, they would have caused a premature death for one of the members. She cleared her throat precisely 1 time before she began. As she spoke she kept her eye on each person for 7 syllables as she explained how she had discovered 7. She only spoke for a few minutes, 5 if she was correct. But when she finished the entire group burst into activity. Old charts and equations were brought out. Three equations: Length of Illness, Quantity of Children, and Crop Percentage equations; were completely disregarded. With the addition of 7, the equations could be altered to work more precisely, but in their original formats there was no room for the 7 next to the 4. And if you moved the 4 so that it didn't sit next to the 7, the second 4 in the equation and the third 5 in the equation could not be where they were as it negated the point of a starting 12. So the three different equations which shared a similar a similar base had to be reworked. There were 18 other equations that could be improved by simply switching in a 7 or adding it. At first everyone was worried about the 2 and 9, but once they remembered the three they had had to rewrite and the number was 3 and 7 in the form of 21 equations they all breathed a sigh of relief. In total the group spent a stunning 32 hours in conversation, the outside sealed away. But when they finished they quickly began to leave, each contemplating how a 7 would change their own studies.

Bridget had just gathered the last of the papers when Corvus Black entered the room. Bridget froze. It had been years since she had seen him this close. Occasionally she would see him at a distance, but she made sure to keep that distance and to never catch his eye. Everytime she saw him, she felt like she was 11 again.

But seeing him this close... She remembered sitting in the library, arithmancy books spread around her, rewriting the equation for Magic stability. She had taken out the 2, and replaced it with the firmer 3. She had also written why it was better that way. She had intended to give it to the Arithmancy professor so that she might start those classes during her first year rather than her third. That was when Corvus Black pulled the paper from under her pen and stood there. Reading it. At first she had been nervous, this upper year Ravenclaw was someone she wanted to impress. But then he had put the paper down and walked away without a word.

The next day, with the finished essay in hand, she had gone to the Professor's office to hear voices. She would have left and come back, except she heard her new equation spoken. Wide-eyed she had peeked into the office to see Black standing with the Professor telling him why the 3 should replace the 2. Bridget had wanted to barge in. But she couldn't. She dug desperately for the courage that the Gryffindors had in spades. But her well was empty. So she had ran back to her common room, tears on the brims of her eyes.

The moment her tears dried up, she knew she had to protect her future work from all other thieves. The first thing she bought was invisibility ink. But the following month, the sight of Corvus within spitting distance of her new equation had her nerves frayed. He tried to approach her then, but she had gathered her papers and left quickly. That was when she started to write upside down. It had taken some work to figure out how to do it in such a way that she could still read it after. By the end of the year she had 4 layers of protection of her work. She could still write for her professors in a way they could read, but her own personal work was kept secret and safe. She tested this by waiting in the library. The moment she saw Corvus she began to write a poem on the paper. She paused, stood, and left the paper laying on the book as she disappeared into the shelves. She quickly found a space where she could watch him. As she expected, he picked up her paper. He froze for a moment before casting the spell to reveal the words. The look of pure confusion on his face as he turned and angled the paper, attempting to read it, made her sigh in relief. She stepped toward the table once more. He saw her and ran. He graduated that year and she didn't have to see him again until she had left school. Even then, she hadn't met with him.

But now here he was. Coming toward her. Bridget clutched her wand, not sure if she was going to attack him because of the humiliation of his thievery, or defend herself against his mere presence. He bowed slightly in deference to her, and she froze. "Madam Wenlock, I am here on behalf of Headmistress Carina Black. My name is Corvus Black."

His introduction made her head tilt in confusion. He continued as though she had acknowledged him. "The Headmistress would like to offer you a position on the Hogwarts staff as our Arithmancy Professor."

The words out of Bridget's mouth were "Don't you remember me?" Black looked surprised at this and looked at her. Really looked at her. And didn't recognize her. Bridget felt a hole deep in her heart. He had caused her to be the way she was. He had left an irreparable scar on her memory. And he didn't even remember. Fury she had never felt burned through her. "Do you also work at Hogwarts?"

He seemed a bit surprised that she didn't let him answer her first question but then he nodded his head. "I am Deputy Headmaster, I teach Potions."

"Then I will not work for Hogwarts. I do not want to be within 18 feet of you." The Arithmancers around them gasped slightly both at her tone of voice and the number she chose. He seemed to not understand the significance and she shook her head. Of course he didn't. He had needed to steal arithmancy work from a first year when he was a NEWT level student. Rather than choosing to be around him anymore Bridget pushed past him and out of the door.

As she walked toward the apparition point, she laughed quietly to herself. It suddenly felt like a large weight was off of her shoulders. She looked up at the sky and noted the 7 clouds that floated there. She supposed that if she had been a Gryffindor she would now feel brave enough to write her work like the rest of the world. But as she stared at the three clouds that were darker than their companions she knew that she wouldn't. If she had been a Ravenclaw, perhaps she would have thought of some great exiting statement that would cause him mental anguish for days. But the 2 birds that danced in the sky reminded her that she was no Ravenclaw. She looked down at the ground. Cobblestones pressed together in hidden Arithmancy patterns made her think of trying to take revenge. To make him lose his job, and suffer for the rest of his life. Even the temptation was too far from her reach, her Slytherin side far smaller than the . She was Hufflepuff. She was proud of Hufflepuff.

As she walked, she began to calculate the Heart number with Hufflepuff's name when suddenly she realized that the 2 in the Moon Phase equation was clashing with the 93 that was sitting next to the 4. And if she moved the 7... no no, she replace the 2 with the 4 and add a 7 next to the 93 but that would negate the 1 at the fifth position so she would have to add a second 7 next to the 4 which causes an imbalance in the the second half of the equation. But that wouldn't work at all!

With a growl of frustration Bridget Wenlock disapperated to her home, thoughts of Corvus Black left behind.


	17. He Couldn't Hear Her

**Written for the "One Word" Competition **

_(Anything)_

**And the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

_Kenmare Kestrels_

_Captain_

_2751-3000_

**Word Count: 2953**

* * *

Seamus could hardly contain his joy as he flew through the tall grass. He was on a training broom that barely caused his hair to move, but he was flying and he loved it. For a moment he closed his eyes. He could hear the screams of the spectators. He was a Kenmare Kestrel. Best of all of the Quidditch teams in the world. He dropped a hand to trail it through the flowers and grass. They brushed past him and an idea grew. He opened his eyes and quickly began looking for his mommy's favorite flowers, the little pink flowers with heart shaped petals. There were a couple them growing near where he was. He reached for the first flower and his grip slipped. His hands automatically seized the broom and he lay close to it, clutching it. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to pick flowers while flying. He carefully lowered the broom until he could jump off. Seamus let out a little laugh at his own worry. He put the broom down carefully before looking around. The grass now tickled his nose and he sneezed. Batting away the blades he narrowed his eyes in concentration.

To his left was a small stalk of the flowers. Perfect. The grass grew in thick clumps. Seamus had to stomp the grass down so it wouldn't attack him when he let go. Once at the stalk, he noticed that only two of the flowers were in perfect condition. Carefully he pulled a few thorns off of the stems so he could break the flowers off. He held the flowers carefully between his fingers as he turned to find the next stalk. There was a tall one to his right and so he slowly made his way over. It was harder to stomp down the grass when he only had one hand. But he bit his tongue in concentration. Finally, he made his over. He carefully examined the 3 flowers in bloom that he could reach. He decided on the highest of the three. His mommy would like this one. It was really big. He bit his tongue even harder as he reached up and carefully pulled the thorns away from this one. But when he broke the flower off, the thorns grabbed at his sleeve. He tugged until they go, but he looked at a string that was pulled free in dismay. His mommy would be mad that he hurt his new robes.

Seamus looked down at the flowers. He would need a whole lot more if his mommy wouldn't get mad at him. But maybe not the thorny ones that mommy liked so much. Looking around he saw a clutter of tiny blue flowers that looked pretty. He pulled a few of them up. He kept some of the long stems with leaves because the flowers were so tiny he was worried he would drop them. He was walking back to his broom when he saw purple flowers. They were drooped down as though sad, but as he looked at them he saw that the insides were white. They were really pretty. He quickly plucked a few of the purple ones too.

He flew even slower than before, being careful not crush the flowers. A clutter of red to his left caught his attention. He saw plants with giant leaves, but they also had red flowers. He flew closer and landed. He looked down to the flowers in his hand and then back to the plant. They would be perfect. He broke off the top part of the flower stem so that he had 4 new flowers added to his collection. As Seamus rearranged the flowers he noticed that his fingers had turned a bit green. He looked at his green skin and was reminded of his mommy's stories of the banshees. He giggled to himself. Before he gave his mommy the flowers, maybe he would pretend to be a banshee and scare her. Maybe he would need really good flowers for mommy if he was going to scare her first.

He concentrated on the bouquet. Red, purple, pink, and blue petals mixed with green leaves. Something was missing. After a moment he realized what it was. He wanted to add something white. He looked around and couldn't see anything white near him so he mounted his broom again. As he flew closer to home, he saw various white flowers but shook his head. Seamus wanted to find the perfect flowers for his mommy. The grass wasn't giving him the perfect was flying close to a small pond so he flew closer to check there. Maybe the flower was hiding there. Nothing perfect was on the edge of the water, but as he looked he was surprised to see little white flowers floating among the lilypads. Seamus knew that they were perfect for his mommy. He landed a little bit away from the water, his feet sinking into the soil like a soft cushion. Seamus quickly dropped his broom and walked to the water's edge. Some of the flowers were only a little way into the water. But he couldn't reach them from here without falling in. He considered the water and the edge of his robes. A moment later he pulled the robes off and set them to the side, away from the mud. His socks and shoes quickly followed. Finally, he placed the flowers carefully on top of his robes. After rolling up his pant legs, Seamus stepped slowly into the cool water. The mud squished between his toes and he giggled. Seamus would have kept playing in the mud but the ripples caused one of the flowers to float a little closer. Seamus reached under the water and picked the flower. He was able to pick 4 more flowers before the water was too deep for him to walk through and not get his clothes wet. This was enough.

Seamus turned to go back to his robes when he noticed a woman with long black hair crouched between him and his broom. How strange. He hadn't seen her when he had flown over. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but something stopped him. Only a strange croak left him. But it was enough for the woman. He watched as she rose and he realized just how long her black hair was. It was longer than she was! Then she turned around. The white flowers fell through his numb fingers and onto the water bu he didn't notice. The woman's skin was pulled tightly to her bones and had a green tinge. Her red stained eyes watched him and suddenly terror swept through him. He heard his mommy warning him to be careful or the banshee would get him. Tears began to slip down his face as he took a step away.

He had only pulled one string! He was going to tell his mommy. And he was only going to scare mommy for fun. He didn't want to be mean. He was a good boy! He wanted to scream this at the banshee walking toward him. But his words caught in his throat. His stomach dropped and his vision grew blurred as she opened her mouth. He knew what would happen when she started to scream. He would die. He didn't want to die. He wanted his mommy! His foot slipped and he landed in the water. His fingers scrambled in the mud and he grew desperate. He couldn't hear to her. He couldn't hear to her. If he heard her he would die! He grabbed a handful of the mud and pulled it up to his ears and tried to shove it in. The watery mud slipped between his fingers. His tears were raining into the water around him and the banshee still hadn't made a noise. But she would soon. He knew she would soon. He would die because he hadn't listened to his mommy! He reached for the mud at the edge of the water.

He heard the barest sound of a breath before he shoved the mud in his ears. This time it packed tight and he felt a scratchy sensation. But he could start to hear the sound and his ears tore themselves. Crying in pain and in fear Seamus reached for more mud and shoved with all of his strength. More and more. Until her voice disappeared. But he needed more. More mud. Or he would die. More mud. Put more mud...

When a hand grabbed his wrist he curled up and wrapped his arms around his ears. He couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear her. The banshee's fingers pried his arms from his head and he sobbed harder. No no no no. He couldn't hear her.

He wasn't as strong as the banshee and his hands were pulled from his head. He kept his eyes sealed tight and began to sing a song as loudly as he could. He couldn't hear her. Arms wrapped around him and he felt a rocking sensation, but he hardly registered it. He didn't want to die. He couldn't hear her. Slowly he felt a heart beat against the arm that was trapped against the banshee's body. He didn't think banshee's had a heart. And why hadn't it eaten him yet? Maybe he had to be dead for it to eat him. Maybe it was waiting for the mud to dry. Maybe he could hear it if the mud dried. Maybe he would die when the mud dried! Terror surged in him anew and he struggled against the arms and reached desperately forward. He had to open his eyes to see where the mud was. When he did, he noticed that the arms that held him were not green.

Seamus' head shot around and he saw his mommy was holding him. His sobs doubled and he clutched at his mommy. He apologized over and over and he buried his nose into her neck clutching her for dear life. His mommy never stopped rocking, her fingers running through his hair. He cried for a long time. He cried for his mommy. He cried in fear. But he cried mostly in relief that his mommy had saved him. After a while the tears stopped coming. It took a while for him to stop clutching his mommy so tightly.

When he finally felt safe enough to pull away, the sky was turning red. He leaned back and looked at his mommy, but his hands still clutched at her robes. Her mouth was moving but he couldn't hear her. He tried to say that to her, but he couldn't' hear himself. Maybe he lost his voice! One hand let go of his mommy to grab his throat. He looked to his mommy for help. She smiled at him calmly, but he could see worry in her green eyes. This made him even more scared. She tapped her wand to his ear and her lips said something. The packed and scratchy feeling of the mud disappeared. He couldn't' stop the terror that had him quickly covering his ears. What if the banshee came back!

A new terror filled him. Seamus began to look over his mommy's shoulder. They had to get away from here! What if the banshee came back! His mommy had to force him to sit back. When she did he could see that she was still mouthing something. But he couldn't' hear her. After a moment he realized that he couldn't' even hear the toads at the water, or the wind through the air. A breath caught in his throat. Seamus tentatively touched to his ears and felt a liquid. Pulling it back he saw the blood. He tried to say his mommy's name. Tried to call for her, but when he looked up he saw the panic in her eyes. She clutched him to her chest and he felt a bad sensation of being squeezed. When it disappeared they were now kneeling in the hospital.

Healers rushed toward them, but he couldn't' hear them. Seamus could see their mouths moving, but nothing made a sound. This was good. He couldn't hear her then. His tears began to dry up. He decided he didn't need to hear. If he couldn't hear, she couldn't kill him. His mommy stood up and he wrapped his arms and legs around her, he wasn't letting go. They walked through the halls of the hospital and Seamus kept looking for the banshee. He may be protected from her, but his mommy wasn't.

They entered a room, and he panicked when his mommy tried to set him down. He clutched harder and tears started to flow again. She sat with him for a few moments rocking him. The tears slowed when she didn't try to let him go. Instead she sat down and forced him to face the doctor, her arms around his tummy. He didn't like it. But she had her serious face on so he did it for her. But he clutched her robes and kept her arms secure around him. The healer who had followed them was an older man with a big scratchy beard. Normally he would reach out to touch it, but he kept his arms steady on his mommy's arms. The healer waved his wand, and mouthed a few words. Magic ticked at him and he almost smiled. But he kept the smile in. It wasn't safe for mommy yet. Then he would smile. Both the healer and his mommy looked at the door before he did, but when he did he saw his daddy standing there. Behind his daddy was his aunty. They weren't safe either. His daddy said something, but Seamus was thinking. He couldn't save them all when the banshee attacked again. He could only save one. He would save his mommy. Seamus was safe, he couldn't hear the banshee. But his mommy could hear her. He would stop his mommy from hearing her.

They were there for a really long time, and Seamus was hungry. But he pretended he wasn't. What if his daddy went to go get food and the bashee was outside waiting for him! At this thought, Seamus reached over and grabbed his daddy's sleeve. His daddy was sitting beside him and his mommy. When Seamus looked at them he could see the three adults moving their mouths. But Seamus was safe in his silence. He couldn't hear her. But then the healer cast a spell. Seamus knew because he could feel warmth in his ears. But then he could hear some sound. His heart stopped. He wasn't safe anymore! Then he could hear the healer's voice "...anything?"

Seamus screamed and covered his ears with his hands. He jumped away from his mommy and ran to the corner of the room. Just past his ears he could hear them. He could hear their panic. But he knew he could hear her too. He couldn't hear her. He couldn't hear her! He could hear himself saying these words and this caused his panic to multiply. He began to sing at the top of his lungs, even as his fingers pushed deep into his ears. Tears of pain began as he dug at the inside of his ears. He couldn't hear her! Hands pulled at his and pulled them away from his ears. He began to scream even louder as his mommy tried to talk to him. Tried to make him hear her. No no no no no! He couldn't' hear her! He couldn't... darkness surrounded him.

When Seamus opened his eyes he was surprised to see a white roof rather than the blue sky or his bedroom. His ears felt rather warm as well. He reached up to touch his ear and someone grabbed his hand. Opening his eyes he saw his mommy sitting there looking worried. He smiled at her. Then he realized his heart hurt a little bit. Frowning Seamus pressed his other hand against his chest. As he did, he noticed that he wasn't wearing his robes. Strange, he knew he had been wearing his robes while looking for the flowers. Where were the flowers? Seamus shook his head. Why was he here? He couldn't remember anything after picking the red flowers. Why couldn't he remember anything. Maybe he... maybe he fell... off his broom? Maybe... that was it. Yes. He could remember almost falling at the pink flowers. His heart had gone crazy then. If he fell off his broom, maybe his heart would go so crazy to hurt now. Yes. He fell off his broom.

Seamus looked at his mommy. He must have lost all the flowers too. She said his name softly, as though worried how he would react. Seamus smiled at her and held his arms out for a hug. A grin split across her face and she lifted him into a giant hug. As he hugged her, Seamus knew that he would always listen to his mommy. Mommy had said to be careful on the broom. And mommy was always right. The conviction set deep in his heart and Seamus knew he would never forget again. Mommy was always right.

* * *

**For those of you curious, here are the flowers mentioned in order of arrival.**

***Sherard's Downy-Rose**

***Slender Speedwell**

***Large-flowered butterwort**

***Potts' Montbretia**

***Frogbit**


	18. GRYFFINDOR

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrals**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 1,399**

**Prompts: Trio-Era and "Gryffindor"**

* * *

Hermione Granger boarded the train with her mother's words still ringing. "Make friends!" Every year her mother had said the same thing. Hermione bit her lip as she admitted to herself, _she never did make friends._ Not the kind her mom wanted. She only had the books that supported her. Hermione took another deep breath and shook the thoughts away. She could do this. This was a new beginning. She could be whoever she wanted to be.

First hurdle, find somewhere to sit. Hermione let out a quick breath, readjusted her grip and began to tug her trunk behind her. The trunk maker had said it was spelled to make it easy to carry. But as Hermione pulled the trunk behind her, she thought of the the books she had brought with her. There must be a weight limit so the trunk made for slow going. Giggling broke Hermione's concentration, and Hermione looked up in half-fright. The trunk thumped lightly but she ignored it. Hermione hated the sound of giggling. Usually the giggling was at her. Hermione had dressed in her favorite clothes. Her books were packed. Why would someone giggle?

But the two older girls weren't paying her any attention. They were peering into one of the compartments. Hermione half chuckled to herself and she grabbed the handle of her trunk and continued. As she moved centimeter by centimeter, she debated with herself. She could ask for help. In fact, she should ask for help. She really, really should. All it took was opening her mouth and getting their attention. But doubts plagued her and her mouth sealed shut. She kept glancing at the two girls, hoping they would look over and help her. But they didn't, and Hermione slowly passed them. Two compartments along and she found an empty space. She glanced back and noticed the two girls were now gone. She could do this. Hermione tugged the trunk into the space.

It was a struggle to get the trunk up. She kept reminding herself that she could go and ask for help. But she didn't. Finally, she succeeded and sat down exhausted. For a few moments, she watched those who passed her open compartment door. But they neither looked at her, nor looked friendly. Hermione nibbled on her lip and shook her head. Things would be different now. She was going to a school of magic. It wouldn't be hard for her to find someone like minded. Her mother's words still echoed and so Hermione stood and left her compartment. She could do this. There was still 30 minutes left until the train would leave. She would walk around and see what she could learn.

Nothing drew her attention until she heard the shouting. It was coming from one of the compartments near the end of the train. "...GOLPALOTT'S THIRD LAW CONTESTS THAT!"

Hermione peeked in to see a girl and boy standing nose to nose. But she was thrilled to see books covering every available surface. The boy spoke calmly despite the red-faced girl. "Yes. But Golpalott's didn't stop to consider that some potions can be successfully combined to create a stronger but curative potion."

"POTION, YES! BUT ANTIDOTE, NO! Can you even think of one situation in which your argument makes any..." The boy lifted his hand to cut her off and turned to the door where Hermione was watching them.

"Can we help you?" His tone was decidedly unfriendly, but Hermione knew that it would change once she spoke.

Hermione opened her mouth to do so, but the girl cut her off. "Just ignore her, Higgs. Look at her clothes. Definitely mudblood." Hermione didn't know what the new word was, but she cleared her throat and pushed ahead.

"Golpalott's third law is out of date; Breckenridge rewrote the laws in the 1935's edition of Potioneers Guidance."

Both of the older students froze for a moment before turning to her. The girl spoke first. "Breckenridge made far more errors than correction with his new laws— which is why he is not credited now. The fact that you bring him up in conversation means you know nothing about the fine art of potions."

The boy tilted his head to the side and Hermione used the pause to speak. She ignored the insult and focused on the girl's argument. "Yes. But in regards to his re-write of Golpalott's third, he makes a valid point that is often ignored. If the poisons are from completely different composition, acid and base, there will never be a single ingredient that can fix the alchemy combination of the two. Therefore the only way to cure is to drink two different antidotes. But drinking them separately would destroy the balance between the two and cause the other to rapidly kill its host..."

The boy broke in with a smug smirk. "So the only solution is to create a single potion using the two separate antidotes."

The girl crossed her arms. "Yet, even if you do, if you don't have an additional ingredient to balance out the acidic and base of the antidotes, you will just have a small explosion in your lab causing you to lose your..."

"Problem?" The three turned to find another student standing there. Hermione noted the badge on his uniform and realized that this was a prefect.

"No," the girl said crossly. It was obvious to Hermione that she was angry the boy had interrupted her during her argument.

"Then why do you have a mudblood in your compartment? A new one even." Both of the students froze and looked at her again. Hermione was surprised to see them both shudder in disgust.

"Clever thing distracted us." Hermione didn't think it was a compliment. But then she felt a sharp sting across her stomach and she gasped; she looked up and saw the boy pointing his wand at her. "Go away, Mudblood. You aren't welcome here." Hermione did the wise thing and fled.

She ended up in the toilet and bit her bottom lip to keep from letting sound out. But her tears dripped freely. She wanted to go home! She didn't want to be here! Hermione decided then and there to get off the train and find her Mommy and Daddy. But when she opened the door, she found another boy standing there, tears on the edge of his eyes. Hermione's mouth moved on it's own. "What wrong?"

He looked at her and flood gates broke. "I lost my toad!"

Hermione sniffed and wiped at her wet cheeks. The train started to move and Hermione felt a moment's panic. She had to leave! But the boy was obviously heartbroken and Hermione didn't think anyone would help him. She made a snap decision before wiping the rest of her tears away. "Let's see if I can help you find him."

* * *

When Hermione entered the Great Hall the first thing she noticed were the two students from the train. They sat among a sea of blue that she knew to be Ravenclaw. Her heart fell. She had thought that Ravenclaw would be her home. But now she didn't know if she would fit in there. She also now knew what a mudblood was. She didn't think she wanted to live there. Her mouth was talking to the those walking around her, telling them of all she had read on the train but her eyes were trained on the gold of the Headmaster's chair. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that she couldn't go home now. It was too late.

Then there was a singing hat, but Hermione's mind turned to the other three houses. If she wasn't in Ravenclaw, where else could she go? She wasn't particularly brave. She wasn't cunning. And being loyal... she could... be loyal. She supposed, but it sounded so... boring! Her name rang out and Hermione's stomach dropped. This was it. The hat would put her in Hufflepuff. That was ok. At least they wouldn't tease her there. The hat settled on her head and Hermione closed her eyes automatically. What if the hat told her to go to Ravenclaw?

"You are very smart. I can see this clearly. However I can also see your thoughts and your memories. And I know that you think too harshly of yourself. You are far more brave than you believe you are. GRYFFINDOR!"


	19. Chastity

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Copmpetition**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrals**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 1,685**

* * *

**WARNING! - This story contains mentions of child abuse/rape**

* * *

Every generation of the Black family brought with it a secret. These secrets were guarded tightly and never allowed to escape from Grimmauld place. One such secret was born on Andromeda's 6th birthday. Andromeda was very close to her sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, despite Narcissa being a baby at 3 years old. They shared everything together. There were no secrets between them. Until that night. They decided to sleep together, sneaking past their parents. When the door opened, only Bellatrix woke up. She noticed that it was still nighttime and so she turned to the figure standing in the door.

"Father?" she asked as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. He faltered and Bellatrix was able to see him in the shadows. Her father was not wearing any clothing. This was strange enough, but Bellatrix noticed something she had never seen before, and it filled her with fear.

The next morning Narcissa and Andromeda woke up to find they were alone. They quickly scrambled out of bed and went looking for their sister. They found her curled in a ball under her own bed, crying. They asked what had happened, but she shook her head and flinched away from their touch. Despite this, when night came, Bellatrix snuck into Andromeda's room and insisted on sleeping in the room. Bellatrix curled on the couch and her sisters soon fell asleep.

As Bellatrix feared, her father opened the door again. "Go to bed Bellatrix," he said, gesturing down the hallway into her own room. Part of her feared that he would follow. But the other part of her feared that he would stay here.

Bellatrix bit her lip and lifted her chin. "Not 'dromeda, not 'cissa." Her father waited and she spoke again. "Don't… don't do that to them."

"Don't you want me to love your sisters?" her father asked, his arms crossing.

Bellatrix shook her head. "No. I want all of Father's love. I don't want 'dromeda or 'cissa having any of your love."

Her father smirked and Bellatrix felt her stomach drop. "Very well. Follow me." He walked out of the room. Bellatrix glanced at her sisters, who were sleeping peacefully. A tear slipped from her eye. Bellatrix rose and followed her father.

Fear gripped Bellatrix' heart every day she was at Hogwarts. But instead, cackling laughter escaped her and her classmates flinched away. Bellatrix didn't care. Instead, she began to draw vague pictures of her father suffering on her notebook. Bellatrix hardly paid any attention to the professors, preferring to imagine her father writhing under the Cruciatus Curse. Instead of doing her homework, she studied the Dark Arts books she had brought from home.

The Slytherins had quickly learned to avoid Bellatrix. Despite being a first year, her hexes would leave people wincing for hours.

It was the week before Christmas break. Bellatrix growled angrily as she threw a book away from her. The Slytherins nearest to her quickly backed up and Bellatrix rose and looked around the room. She needed… there.

Bellatrix walked over to a fifth year. "Malfoy. It's time we had a talk." The blonde looked up, startled. But then he nodded gracefully, set his homework down, and followed her out of the common room. Bellatrix was trying to find a way to word her thoughts without showing a weakness but still getting what she desired.

When they turned into an empty classroom, they found Peeves. "Looksies what I found! Snakes slithering south!"

"It if it isn't petty, pouncy Peeves."

"The Bell of the Ball. Or not. Looksies at…" Peeves couldn't finish as Bellatrix threw a hex at him and the poltergeist fled.

"What is it, Black?" Malfoy said from where he was leaning on the wall.

"I wish to propose a deal that is mutually beneficial."

"Oh?" The Malfoy mask was just as impressive as she had heard. But Bellatrix felt her mind slipping into memories and her face into a grin.

"I have a book that may interest you. And you have one that interests me."

"Which book?"

"Alta Arma."

Malfoy's face showed some interest as he pushed away from the wall. "What do you want with dark shields Black?"

"Nothing of your interest. I offer you Caelum Black's transfiguration memoire." Bellatrix watched as Malfoy weighed his options. The books were not the same in value. Malfoy would be getting the better deal. But Bellatrix needed that book if it was going to protect her sisters.

"Very well," he said after a moment. "You have a deal."

The day of Christmas Break, Bellatrix quickly checked her sisters. Neither seemed wary of their father and Bellatrix almost couldn't believe it. The moment the Black family returned to Grimmauld, Bellatrix cast a hex at her father. The man was unprepared and went face first into a table knocking him out cold.

Bellatrix smirked. Her mother stood passively to the side and Bellatrix turned to her sisters. Bellatrix lifted her wand and began to cast the spell. It took time, and when Bellatrix finished something inside of her cracked.

Her father woke up then and quickly cast the Cruciatus at her. But Bellatrix just laughed, finding amusement in her father's pain.

He couldn't touch them. Finally, he couldn't touch any of them again.

Bellatrix smirked as she adjusted her black gown. Her mother had not even tried to get her to wear a white gown, and her sisters had grown used to her odd ways. Bellatrix was only here because the Dark Lord had asked it of her.

He wanted the Lestranges bound to him, and no one was more loyal to the man than Bellatrix. Her loyalty had only been secured when the Lord had allowed her to torture and kill her father. Bellatrix hadn't cared what her father had done to anger the Lord, but she took pleasure in finally taking life from the man. She found just how much torture a man could take before he died.

Bellatrix smirked once again as the doors in front of her opened. Bellatrix had a sudden thought and cast a spell on her gown. As she walked down the white carpet, she left a trail of blood behind her. There were a few gasps and one woman screamed when they noticed but Bellatrix only looked where her Lord was standing behind her soon-to-be husband. The ceremony itself was uneventful for Bellatrix. No one died. No one suffered. But she felt an old fear flash through her as her husband and she entered the bed chamber for the night.

He reached for her and Bellatrix held out her hand to stop him. "You can't touch me."

He paused for a moment before a smirk of his own appeared. "How can you stop me, wife?"

Bellatrix didn't bother taking out her wand; instead, she walked calmly to the bed. "Just try it."

Despite his brave words, her husband looked reluctant. She laughed at his indecision. His face hardened and he approached her quickly. He grabbed her arm and she let him push her back. He didn't try to kiss her, but shoved his hand under her robes. Then he was rolling on the floor howling in pain. Bellatrix sat up and watched the man squirm. "I suppose I should tell you. No man may ever touch any woman of my family, without our permission. This was a warning. Next time… well let's just say I would need to find a husband again."

He glared at her, even as he clutched his hand to his chest a faint purple smoke rising from the tips.

The moment Bellatrix had both feared and hoped arrived. Her Lord asked for her to join him. Bellatrix licked her lips and stared in the mirror. The cost of the shield that guarded her and her family was a high one. If she were to join her Lord… Bellatrix shook the thoughts away, lifted her chin and walked into the bedroom. Her Lord stood calmly at the window overlooking his land. Bellatrix bowed low the floor.

"Get up, Bellatrix." His voice was tinged with anger.

"My Lord. I am sorry, but I cannot join you in your bed."

The first round of the Cruciatus was tepid for her Lord and Bellatrix held in her laughter at the pain. It only lasted a few moments before it was lifted. "Why is that Bellatrix?"

"When I was a child, I enacted a dark shield on myself and any woman who bore Black blood or name." She listened as he walked closer and then sat, his feet just visible in front of her.

"I see."

"The cost of keeping this shield is to remain chaste for the entirety of my life."

Bellatrix prepared herself for another bout of the Cruciatus, but instead found her Lord running his fingers through her hair. "This is my only offer, Bellatrix."

"I am sorry, my Lord."

He hesitated a moment before removing his hand. "Very well. Go, Bellatrix. See to your family." Bellatrix did as she was bid, hoping she had made the right choice.

Bellatrix hated mothers. The only exception was her sister, Narcissa. Her own mother had caused Andromeda to flee the home. Sure, she was a blood traitor who fell in love with a muggle. But she was under Bellatrix' care. The woman had only lasted so long under Bellatrix' curses before she had died. Soon after her Lord's disappearance, Bellatrix began to take her anger out on all mothers. Her husband whispered that it was anger at not having her own children. Bellatrix secretly agreed.

On the last day of her life, she saw the green of the curse fly toward her. It was sent by a mother protecting her children. Bellatrix had a moment of despair and joy. Despair that it ended here. Ended by a woman similar to her sister in so many ways. But joy to know that her shield would be forever locked in place. No Black of blood or name would ever suffer as she had. Bellatrix let out a grin right before her world faded to white.


	20. Lord Peter Pan

**Written for the Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrals**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 922**

**Prompt: Peter Pan**

* * *

She never felt like she fit into society. Her views of the world were just too different. The world insisted on a boring life with no adventure. But they were blind to the magic hidden in the little things. They never seemed to see the beauty of a soul leaving its body. It was the most magical thing she had ever witnessed. First it was the soul of a kneezle. Then there was the soul of a snake. But when she finished school she was finally allowed to witness the first human soul. It was like a drug. Addicting. But she was told time and time again that it was not allowed. She could not witness the souls of even the most worthy!

Her parents had gathered the family one evening. Her parents left the three sisters standing in a dark room alone. Narcissa and Andromeda held eachothers hands. But Bellatrix was intrigued. Something in the air felt different. Something was going to change. And then he arrived. Something in Bellatrix died when she looked at him. The man was tall and well formed. His eyes held no affection, and his body held no softness. He was perfect. Bellatrix felt like she was flying as she looked at him. Her body reacted on its own and she was bowing long before her sisters had gotten over their shock. A chuckle came from this Lord and she heard him whisper before her sisters started to scream.

Bellatrix resisted the temptation to see their pain and instead began to pant in excitement. This was a man who lived in the same world that she did. Her parents had mentioned him, of course, but Bellatrix had never been allowed to meet him until this moment. Her thoughts were abandoned when she saw his shoes approaching. Her sisters fell into sobbing, but Bellatrix could hardly breathe. "Stand." The word gave her wings and she soon stood, her head lowered, but her heart soaring. His hand reached out and caressed her. Shivers raked down her spine and she shuddered violently. "How interesting…" He walked behind her, his fingers trailing along her skin. "You will do nicely. Give me your arm." Bellatrix did so immediately and felt a burning pain on her arm. She bit her lip until it bled. Then the pain vanished and she looked to see his mark on her arm.

Elation filled her. She was no longer part of the world that limited her. She was now part of his world. A world filled with souls. A world filled with pain. A world where she could become just as immortal as him and never die.

* * *

Everywhere he went, Bellatrix was at his side. Her heart beat with fierce joy anytime he released a soul. Today was no different. Bellatrix stood just behind her Lord's right side and looked down at the man wanting to be a Death Eater. He was low to the ground, speaking to the stones rather than her Lord. But she let it pass. Her Lord favored this weakling. But then her Lord whispered. The words were like fire to her heart. "Kill him." Her breathing stopped. Her arm lifted. Her Lord turned to look at her and she stared into his eyes as the spell left her wand. A small smile was hinted in his lips and Bellatrix nearly fell over satisfaction. This was heaven.

* * *

Her wings were shredded. They clung to her heart and held it steady, but she could no longer fly. Her Lord had disappeared. The whispers were that he was dead, but she knew better. Her Lord would never die. He would never age. He was immortal. She was here. The dark walls of her cell matched her personality, but they kept her from her freedom. The interlopers, the thieves, the pirates had locked her here. They had dared to call her noble work for her Lord a sin. They didn't understand. They were aging old men. They would never understand the joy of flight.

Time passed and her Lord still had not saved her. She believed with all of her being that he was still alive. That he was just biding his time. But she grew nervous. What if he didn't find her useful anymore? What if he found another to stand in her place, to kill as he commanded? These thoughts were brought to her by the demons in cloaks. She fought them with her very being, but they still surrounded her. She screamed and fought them. The other prisoners flinched away from her, but she didn't care. Her Lord would never abandon her. He would always come for her. She was his to keep forever.

* * *

She cackled as she released another young soul into the world. Battle was her favorite would to be in. Here everyone killed each other. There was no such thing as mercy, or forgiveness, or love. Laughter ripped from her. No there was only power. And she had more than any of these ants. Her spell shot toward a redhead, but was blocked by her mother. Bellatrix snarled at the woman and soon began a duel. Bellatrix could not wait to release this woman. The woman screamed of love and protection. That was a fantasy in the woman's mind. There were no such things. This was battle and the only that mattered was the one who won the duel. Bellatrix could not wait to… For a half moment Bellatrix saw her own soul, before the world turned black.


	21. Ariana's Battle

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrels**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count : 2325**

* * *

She could feel it again. The bad thing. It was twisting and turning inside of her. Her fingers itched to let it out. But she couldn't do that. She had to keep it inside. It was so hard. The bad thing was so much stronger than her. A small piece escaped and the garden was ablaze. Ariana wrapped her arms around her knees. Rocking, she began to fight to pull the bad thing back. She could hear voices now. They were trying to distract her. Trying to make her stop fighting. But she couldn't. The bad thing had to stay inside. The voices continued and Ariana did the only thing she could think of—she fought that, too. Her body hit and scratched while her mind flexed in a way that shot pain down her spine.

A familiar voice came through and Ariana opened her eyes to find her brother sitting in front of her. He touched her hands lightly and the bad thing relaxed its attack. Tears of relief slipped out of her eyes. He quickly wrapped his arms around her. Ariana held still. She always did. If she moved, the bad thing would attack her brother. But her tears stopped. He pulled back a moment later and Ariana realized that the garden wasn't on fire anymore. A small surge of jealousy ran through her against her will. Why did his bad thing listen to him? But the bad thing grabbed on to the thought and grew larger again. Ariana quickly closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Aberforth's hand rubbing her back helped her fight the bad thing and it quieted.

When Aberforth helped her stand back up, Ariana could see her other brother watching them from the kitchen door. Ariana could see that he was disappointed in her. He was always disappointed in her. Ever since their mama… Ariana felt the memories surround her. They pressed on all sides. The bad thing had been so large, and it hurt so much. She just wanted to let it out. Just a bit. Maybe it would be like her brother or her mother. Maybe the bad thing would be ok. Ariana looked at her mama right as the bad thing escaped. Watched as her mama was ripped to pieces by her bad thing.

With the memory, the bad thing surged forward again. It fought and clawed at her insides. But Aberforth was holding her hand. It couldn't escape because Aberforth was here for her. Aberforth was always here for her.

She was scared. Ariana was scared, and it wasn't because of her bad thing. No. It was because Aberforth, Albus, and Albus' friend were throwing the bad stuff at each other. Her own bad stuff was slipping out. But she couldn't tear her eyes away from the three boys. Visions of her mother filled her eyes as she looked at them. The bad stuff would destroy them. Destroy everything she had. Her own bad thing began to surge out of her, and she ran forward. The bad thing helped her fly forward. She had to stop them. She had to save them. She watched as each of them threw the bad stuff. The bad stuff joined in the middle for a moment. It paused. It seemed to look at her. Ariana could feel her bad thing calling it. No. No. No NO! She tried to turn. To escape, but it stuck her chest and darkness surrounded her.

The first thing Ariana knew was that she was alone. No papa. No mama. No Albus. No Aberforth. No one. When she opened her eyes she found herself looking into her living room. It could be no where else. But it was empty. Ariana looked down and found she was resting above the mantle. She reached a hand out. It touched nothing. She walked forward reaching toward the room, but it never grew closer, never changed its shape. She whirled around to find herself looking at a garden. The flowers were of magical shades and they blew in a breeze she didn't feel. She reached to touch them, but felt nothing. A sob caught in her throat. It almost escaped before.

"Ariana?" The breathless voice of disbelief was like ice through her veins. She slowly looked over her shoulder to see Aberforth standing in that room. She turned and began to run to him. She needed him. The bad stuff was still with her. But still, she never grew any closer and Aberforth only looked at her in sadness. Her knees gave out. She fell to the ground and didn't feel the dirt hit her face. She couldn't feel the grass beneath her toes. Ariana wasn't stupid. She knew what she was. She knew what it meant. She would always be alone.

Ariana sat on the bench in the garden. She was weaving a crown of flowers. She couldn't help but smile at it softly. She could never do this before when she was alive. She could feel the bad thing still rippling beneath her skin. It was the only thing she could still feel. But it never grew stronger. It never faded. It was constant. A noise from the room had her looking up. She found her brother shaking off rain water. He was so different now. His face forever held lines that had only been seen in his smiles. His eyes were duller. He had a beard. She never saw Albus. Aberforth would never tell her why. Somedays, he spoke of their brother and she wondered in Aberforth was keeping him away. But others he would weep and she wondered if Albus didn't want to see her. When she was alone, she wondered if he was disappointed in her again.

But today, he looked up with a smile. It was rare, his smiles. "I bought it, Ariana. I bought the Hog's Head." Ariana smiled at him softly. He had wanted that pub for over a year now. He had wanted to leave this house. She could see it anytime he looked into the dark corners. Her smile faded as she wondered if he would leave her here. Her brother was kind, but perhaps it was too cruel to ask to go, too. Aberforth was trying to run away from this. From the memories. And that meant her. too.

Ariana let her hair hide her face as she stared at the flowers. The bad thing swirled and habit had her tightening her hold of it. But it didn't change form. It just moved. Moved. A tear hit the purple petals beneath her. She quickly rubbed the remains away and forced herself to stop crying. "Ariana." She looked up to find him watching her. "What's wrong, Ariana?" His fingers were on the edge of her picture. A reminder of what she was. That she wasn't real. Ariana stood, the half-finished crown lying at her feet. Without a thought, she ran from the garden. She ran away from the room. Away from Aberforth.

Ariana drifted through the color. There was nothing else here. Just color. It wrapped around her, tilted her, danced with her. At times it reminded her of the bad thing. But she furiously shoved the thought away. She dared not go back to the garden. She didn't want to see the room empty. Filled with dust. She didn't want to see that she was left behind. Abandoned. Forgotten.

Her name. Someone had said it. But it sounded so far off. Ariana found herself drifting toward it. She stopped just on the edge of color. Just before the brown became dirt and the green became leaves. And in her garden she could see them. Two figures standing side by side. They looked toward her, but had yet to spot her. Fear flashed as she looked at the woman's face. She felt as though the bad thing was growing. That it was going to rip her apart. It would destroy her. Just like it did, "mama." The word slipped out unintentionally. The woman zeroed in on her. Moments later, Kendra had reached her. Arms surrounded her. She couldn't feel them, but she could sense her mama. Then her papa reached her. A wail left her mouth and seemed to echo among the trees.

Later, when she had calmed down, her mama and papa walked her back to the garden. Back to the room. As she neared it, she closed her eyes. She let them lead her, but didn't want to see the empty room. Then she heard her name again. She looked to find Aberforth. His hair had changed color. His beard had grown. His lines had multiplied. But it was her brother. There was no doubt. She clutched her mama's hand.

"Ariana. I have missed you so."

Ariana sniffed. "I thought you would leave me."

Aberforth's eyes were filled with so much hurt that she flinched. "I would never ever leave you, Ariana. It took time for me to acquire our mother and father's portraits. But we're together now, Ariana. Her mother and father smiled at her. Aberforth smiled at her. But someone was missing. "Where's Albus?" Her parents looked away and her brother frowned. "Aberforth? Mama? Papa? Where's Albus?!"

"He's at Hogwarts," Aberforth whispered. "He's the great wizard he always wanted to be. No one knows the truth. How he killed…" Aberforth turned away and went to the bar. It was then that Ariana realized the room had changed. She was no longer in the family home. Instead, she was in a dark pub. She was at the Hog's Head. Aberforth hadn't left her.

A smile nearly broke free. But then she realized. She was in Hogsmeade. Albus was in Hogwarts. Why wasn't he here? Maybe he really was disappointed in her. She looked at the shaking of her brother's back. She saw both of her parents looking sadly at one another. This was her fault. No. This was the bad things' fault. For the first time since she had died, Ariana felt rage fill her. She released her parents' hands and sat on her bench, hardly noticing the nearly complete crown beneath her feet. Instead, she closed her eyes. She attacked the never changing bad thing. She fought it. She screamed at it. She tried to erase it. To erase what she had done. But it was futile. Nothing changed. She felt something snap inside of her. The rage faded away as quickly as it had come. She ignored her family's worry and picked up the crown. Slowly, she began to weave the flowers together once more.

She had done what Aberforth had asked. She allowed the bad thing to be cast upon her. She had become more than a mere picture. She was now a guardian of the passage. Various paintings had visited over the years. Her status had been elevated to a high point, even among the Hogwart's portraits. But this meant that she heard their whispers when they came around. Whispers of Albus. Whispers of his death. Whispers of his portrait. Sometimes she wanted to visit with him. But she could just imagine the disappointment in his eyes.

It hurt almost as much as the desperation in Aberforth's. He had ranted and raved at her. Begged her to talk. To cry. To scream. To do something. But she didn't want too. She would rather mimic a muggle painting, if that would cause the world less harm. Her mama and papa visited often. But they had given up on trying. Now her mama would just brush her hair and her papa would bring an easel from their painting and paint her flowers. The scene would look serene. It always did. But she could tell that it pained Aberforth to see it somedays.

She had been staring up at the unmoving sky when she felt someone new enter her gardens. Her head slipped off the bench and she looked at the person. They had a beard that reached the ground, more lines than Aberforth would ever get, and eyes that she could never forget. Ariana scrambled to her feet and looked at her brother. Her parents entered behind him, and pushed him forward another step.

Ariana gazed at her brother fearfully. He gazed at her, and Ariana found a similar fear echoed back. Hope flooded through her and she cautiously took a step forward. He didn't move. Another and he flinched slightly. But that made her all the more determined. Finally she stood before him. Her parents had disappeared and Aberforth may have been watching. But Ariana only had eyes for Albus. He closed his blue eyes and Ariana opened her mouth to say something. But was shocked when Albus fell to the ground with tears streaming down his face. Her own heart ached and something snapped into place.

It was not long after she found peace with Albus before she watched Aberforth stumble in his bar and collapse. She ran to Albus for help. But by the time they returned to her portrait, Aberforth had already died. She tried not to feel too happy about that. But the man had been all alone. She had seen him gaze longingly at her portrait when the family would visit. She had been there to help Albus and Aberforth reconcile. Albus left her portrait to inform their parents and Ariana began working on a new flower crown.

Two weeks passed, and Ariana grew nervous. She felt a new flash of fear that Aberforth had never commissioned a painting of himself. But before that thought could grow she heard new footsteps on the path to her garden. Looking up, she found Aberforth. Albus was standing just behind him with a hand on his shoulder. Their parents stood to the right. They all gazed at Ariana happily. The tears that streaked down her face were of joy as she ran into the embrace of her family.


	22. Long Term Results

**Written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition**

**Team: Kenmare Kestrels**

**Position: Captain**

**Prompt: Pureblood Hermione **

**Word Count: 1,710**

* * *

Hermione Granger had not moved for ten minutes. As it was six in the morning, no one was in the library to notice this odd behavior. The library was so still that the books could hear that she was hardly breathing. It was as if she was afraid to disturb the paper in front of her. Her eyes were trained on the parchment. They traced the family tree that rooted from the name "Hermione Jean Granger." Her mind was in a scramble between focusing on the words in front of her and on her memories.

**"Hermione Jean Granger."**

To complete her four years of post Hogwarts education, she was required to submit a project of her own devising. She had created and discarded over twenty different ideas. It was Harry who had helped her in the end. Ron had been upset that Harry wasn't an Auror, but Hermione had seen it coming. But she hadn't guessed he would go into wand-making. He had been apprenticed by Ollivander himself. When the three of them would meet, the topic always came up. Harry was always overjoyed at some new discovery of technique. Sometimes he was struggling, sometimes he was flourishing. But Hermione could see he loved it.

Hermione, Ron, and Harry all sat at their normal table at the Hog's Head. Aberforth always made sure it was empty for their arrival every other Friday night. Their discussion was on it's normal routine. First, Ron talked about his upcoming "graduation". He only had two more weeks as an Apprentice Auror before Ron would be given the badge and his own partner. Harry and Hermione didn't dare look at each other for fear that the newly perceptive Ron would figure out they had a surprise gift for the ceremony. Then talk turned to Hermione. Her boys were smarter than when they were in Hogwarts, but she still kept the technical to a minimum. Most of the time, she gushed about her new project idea. The boys needed a break and talked about Quidditch for a bit while Hermione jotted down the new ideas that always struck her while speaking out loud. Then it was Harry's turn.

"I'm telling you, guys. Our wands say much more about our magic than you could believe! It's like the Wizard form of DNA except that it's very visible!" Ron grunted at the Muggle term but didn't ask. Hermione leaned forward.

"Is it really that descriptive?"

"Yes!" Harry polished off his butterbeer before nodding to Aberforth that he wanted another. "The core of the wand isn't just random between the magical animals—but instead, it shows the flavor of your magic. Phoenix feathers—like mine—mean that my power is large and explosive. So I will burn out hotter and quicker than others. You both have dragon heartstring so your magic can withstand a large strain but it can be more challenging for you to do smaller magics. The wood can show the kind of magic you will flourish more, the durability is the force behind your spells, and the length can even show you the reach of your magic!"

It had been like a flower in her mind. "What do you mean about the wood?"

Harry's eyes lit up. "Your wood can determine the kind of magic you are best at. A willow wand is best for charms, a birch is for potions…"

"I don't understand Harry. Why would the wood determine where you have the most talent?"

"Because the magic we use for each of the different divisions is slightly different than the ones we use for others. It's part of the reason why the color of the magic is different."

The flower turned into a full garden and Hermione quickly began to write her thoughts on the paper. Harry laughed, but moments later he and Ron began discussing Quidditch.

**"Mother—"**

She screamed and writhed on the ground. She wanted it to stop. But Bellatrix didn't stop. She continue to slice through Hermione's arm with the blade. Hermione could see the cruel smile on the woman's face as she cut to the bone. It was too much… too much.

**"Bellatrix Lestrange (nee Black)."**

Hermione dropped the parchment and stood with a gasp. Her heart was beating furiously, berating her for not breathing. But Hermione could only stare at the parchment in horror. But then she forced herself to calm down. It must be a mistake. Perhaps the potion on the paper had been a bad batch. She grabbed a second one. She sliced the tip of her finger and placed at the ink at the bottom of the page. Lines grew like vines and her name was spelled out. Then there was mother, and father. The name of that horrible woman and her wretched husband appeared once more. Hermione clutched her arm as phantom knifes rubbed the faded scars.

She needed to… see… Harry. Yes, Harry. Harry could fix… this. Hermione spelled the books to their position, but she stared at the two offending parchments. She needed to keep one for Harry, but she didn't want to touch it. Didn't want it to taint her hands. She wanted to burn it. With a deep fortifying breath, she pulled a ziplock bag from her moleskin pouch and levitated one of the papers into it. Sealed it and hid it away. The other, she burned. She felt a little bad about the scorch mark on the table, but she left it at that and fled.

* * *

Hermione, Harry, and Ron all stared down at the knife encased in glass. This was it. The cause of all of Hermione's problems. The moment the three had approached the Ministry for help Hermione had been officially renamed Hermione Lestrange despite their protests. Her parents believed that Hermione's was theirs by birth, however because of Hermione's previous memory charm - their memories were considered inconclusive. Further testing had revealed that Black household magic responded to Hermione the way a true Heir would have.

The moment the public had found out about this Hermione was put under scrutiny. Only because of Harry and her help in the War did the people not shun her as they did the children of all Death Eaters. Hermione had been able to graduate before the news escaped, but the job that she had had lined up after withdrew their acceptance of her.

The first year had been hardest. Before the test Hermione was part of a group of muggleborn witches and wizards called Unity. The group did their best to fight the separation between the different blood classes. But the moment Hermione was declared a Pureblood they stopped inviting her to meetings. Hermione found the whole thing hypocritical and couldn't believe they would do that to her.

On the other hand, purebloods both invited her to their gathers and mocked her when she arrived. It was only because of Draco Malfoy that she hadn't completely made a fool of herself. Malfoy and his Fiancee had found her standing in a ballroom fighting off tears as an older woman berated her lack of etiquette. Malfoy had immediately argued the woman's point and Greengrass had gripped Hermione's arm in a show of support.

Three years passed and now the truth was known. It had taken them over a year to track down the dagger that Bellatrix had used to scar Hermione. It had been Draco's idea. It had ended up in a muggle antique store. The Department of Mysteries had done tests and the results were conclusive. The magic imbued into the blade had caused a blood adoption. For every drop of blood Hermione had lost, a drop of Bellatrix's blood had replaced it in her body. After the carving, Hermione had enough of Bellatrix's blood in her body that the natural magic had seen it as a blood adoption.

Three months of tests had proven there was no way to undo the adoption. Hermione was now and would forever be Bellatrix Lestrange's blood-adopted daughter. Perhaps if Hermione had found this out in the beginning she would have thrown a fit. But three years of being slighted by both muggleborns and purebloods had led to an insight of the society. Hermione had used her status to claim a seat on the Wizengamot, with Harry's help. As the official voice of the House of Black, Hermione was able to argue laws that would cause the canyon between the muggleborns and purebloods to grown larger.

This did not stop her from glaring down at the dagger. The biggest question on everyone's lips had been "did Bellatrix know?" The Department of Mysteries said it would have been impossible for Bellatrix not to know something was happening as she would have felt weaker the more she cut into Hermione. Draco speculated that maybe his Aunt had been unaware of the magic and just crazy enough to use the blade anyway. Hermione wanted to lean toward Draco's perspective, but there had been a variety of things in the Lestrange vault that caused her to question it. Hermione's favorite muggle fairy tale book. A letter between the deceased couple discussing their wish to adopt a smart young witch. A wedding dress that would not have fit Bellatrix, but could fit Hermione perfectly.

Chanting caused Hermione to focus once more of the dagger. The Department of Mysteries had concluded that the dagger was best destroyed. As the gathered figures began to chant the dagger slowly began to disintegrate into dust then the dust slowly began to vanish until there was nothing in the glass case but air.

Ron and Harry each took her hand and the three of them walked out of the room. The moment they exited there was a barrage of reporters. "Ms. Lestrange is it true that Draco Malfoy is going to leave his wife for you?" "Ms Lestrange, when are you going to marry Mr. Weasley?" "Ms. Lestrange how do you think your mother feels about your newest bill to allow muggleborn witches and wizards into high level Ministry positions. "Ms. Lestrange…" Hermione held her head high. The training Draco and his wife had given her allowed her to confidently pass through the crowd and left all of their questions unanswered.


	23. Rowena's Regret

**Written for the Fanfiction Quidditch League Competition**

**Team: Kenmare kestrels**

**Position: Captain**

**Word Count: 965**

* * *

Rowena couldn't pinpoint the moment everything went wrong. She was supposed to be the smartest witch of the age. Knowledge was the key to all things. She knew this, but the knowledge of what had caused this... it seemed to slip from her fingers. It was so hard to think about it without falling into regret. Godric and Salazar would never have had the falling out that they had without Hogwarts. But could she really regret the founding of the school. If she hadn't focused so much on preserving knowledge would her daughter have left? But did that mean that she was forced to regret all the things she had created that had saved countless lives? A groan slipped out of her lips, and her had was held by someone else.

With effort Rowena opened her eyes to find Helga sitting beside her smiling softly. If they had been more diligent, would Helga's family have been murdered all those many years ago? So many questions and doubts. Rowena could tell from Helga's eyes that she could see the doubts. For once the woman spoke no words of comfort, and Rowena wondered if that was sign that all was lost.

With a sigh, Rowena's eyes closed and her mind slipped into her memories, desperately searching for an answered. The sight of Salazar and Godric throwing spells at one another with the intent of harm. Helga and she had been having afternoon tea when a student had burst through the door. The look of pure terror was something neither of them had seen in many years, and it caused them to drop their cups and stand. The student couldn't speak, there was no breath to spare for it, so they quickly followed him to the great hall. Just outside the door, students stood staring into the room. The younger students hid behind the pillars, peeking. The older students were huddled together with shield charms. Helga and she quickly raised their own shields before pushing into the room. A bright orange spell bounced off of Helga's shield and caused Rowena's stomach to drop. The Stomach Burning curse. Her eyes shot to the two duelists and from their bodies she had no idea which one had sent that spell at the other.

"Stop!" Helga's voice was loud and clear and the two duelists froze a moment. They glanced at the two at the door. Godric quickly came closer to them, while Salazar sneered and backed by himself. "What is going on?"

The words Godric had used didn't matter. Just the discrimination that Salazar did nothing to contest. The sins that Salazar's eyes admitted to. The friendship was broken.

But perhaps she needed to go further than that. She drew up the memory from a few years before that. Their first muggle-born student. The young girl had walked into the great hall with her chin raised. Salazar had muttered to himself words that echoed to the girl and made her face fall and her eyes fill with pain. Helga had rushed to comfort the girl, Godric and she had turned to the man and questioned his reasoning. The words "You are too foolish to understand." echo in Rowena's brain. At the time she had been so frustrated that the word "foolish" had been attached to her. But now she could see that she should have been more worried that upset. She should have continued to talk to him, to change his mind, rather than leave the table in a huff as she had.

But a muggle-born student was bound to have appeared at some point after Hogwarts' founding. She could feel the breeze that had drifted off of the Black Lake to surround them. The four had stood just outside the main doors and looked at the castle in front of them. Hogwarts was finally finished. The had bought the old castle and infused their magic into the stones and the wards. This memory seemed to have no negatives, but she could almost see them standing there now. Helga and she holding hands, Godric's hand on her shoulder. But Salazar... he had taken a step away from them. He had never liked heavy emotions. Never liked to share them. She had always believed that. But perhaps, the glimpses of a kindness were never there. Maybe she had always just seen echoes of herself in his eyes and never saw him for what he was. Perhaps the new friendship had blinded her to the way his heart turned.

Pain flared through her, Rowena's eyes opened and her back arched. A raspy cry slipped through her lips and Helga put her cool hand on her forehead. The pain subsided quickly and Rowana smiled at her best friend. She had once had three of them, and she wished with all of her heart that the other two were here. But they weren't here, and her daughter wasn't here. It was only Helga. The solid foundation on which the rest of them had towered.

Rowena could feel herself slipped slightly. Her body felt just a bit too large. A choked sob slipped out of her. How could she leave? She had to fix this. She had to put the world back in it's proper place. She had to...

"Hush Rowena." The woman wiped her tears away and Rowena let out a heavy sigh. She slipped out of her body. Helga could not see her, but Rowena saw her friend's eyes fill with tears before the woman leaned over the empty body. She considered staying as a ghost. Perhaps she could still fix things. But Helga gave her a small nudge to continue with her whispered words and Rowena couldn't disappoint her friend, she she slipped away at the words echo around her. "Good bye, Rowena."


End file.
